Page 108 of For The Weekend
“I had a lot of fun tonight,” I say, breaking the silence, and he shifts his weight so he can look at me while still lying on top of me.
“It was fun. I’m glad you came, that you’re with me.”
“I guess it’s a good thing that your family already likes me. I don’t have to impress anyone.”
He levers up over me, his muscled arms holding himself up, and I wrap my hands around his thick shoulders, his hair falling like a curtain around us, as if giving us even more privacy. “Did you think you had to? Do we need to play our game again?”
“No, I don’t need to name anything I’m good at.” He arches his eyebrow dubiously, and I laugh. “I’m fine. I’m just thinking about things.”
“Things like what?”
“Your mom, and what she would think of me.”
“I think she’d love you.”
“You think she’d be upset by how fast we’re moving?”
Since my own mother disapproves of my choices, I would hope at least his mom would be okay with them. That she’d approve of Roman and me being together. That she’d want us to be happy.
“You think we’re moving fast?” he asks, and when I shrug, he lowers himself back down to lie on me, his face against mythroat, legs settled in the pocket of my thighs. “I’ve never done what is normal for society, so I’ve never considered it. But if we are moving too fast, we can slow down. We can go at whatever pace you want.”
I focus on the ceiling of his bedroom. All the walls are white, and there is no personality anywhere to be seen. “You should paint in here.”
“Okay,” he agrees, lips ghosting over my earlobe.
“The only room you painted so far is Mazie’s room, right? You need to do all of them. They’re so sad. Like a hospital with all the white.”
“You volunteering to pick out colors?”
“Yes.”
He tucks my hair behind my ear, his beard scraping in the hollow behind it. “Not too fast, then?”
“My brain goes two thousand miles an hour. You could never keep up with me.”
He leans up on his elbow, accepting the challenge with a cluck of his tongue. “No?”
“Pfft. I’ve thought about every possible scenario already.”
“Like what?”
“A wedding.”
He nods, eyes never leaving mine. “Laid-back, with no first dances or assigned seats. Outside, with comfort food and disposable cameras for everyone to take pictures.”
I grin. “You remembered all of that.”
“I told you. I remember everything you say. Like how I would be invited, but I’d have to bring a date.”
“I did say that,” I murmur, as he strokes his index finger across my cheekbone and down to my lips.
“Too bad for you, you’re my forever date.”
“You want to get married?”
“Definitely,” he replies without hesitation, toying withmy bottom lip, rubbing the pad of his finger back and forth across it.
“What about more kids?”
