Page 74 of A Love Song for Dreamers

“No, thanks to you,” I point out. “You’re the one who pushed for her. I just helped move thingsalong.”

I plant a kiss on him, then take the treats he brought up to Haley, who thanksme.

“No treats for you?” I ask Tyler when I’m backdownstairs.

He looks up from his phone before tucking it away. “I have very discriminatingstandards.”

“Bullshit.” I grab a bowl and the box of Rice Krispies. “You’d fuck someone for CircleKrispies.”

He groans as he crosses to me. “If that someone is you?” he murmurs against my neck, wrapping an arm around me to drag my hips against his, “I’d fuck you for dryerlint.”

I laugh, but every part of me lights up. I reluctantly pull back and pass him the bowl of butter and marshmallows. “We should probably make some Circle Krispies forSophie.”

“The kid’s going to be a walkingmarshmallow.”

“Didn’t hurtus.”

He chuckles and melts themarshmallows.

“Why don’t we get sick of these after so many years?” I ask. “I can’t decide if it’s the sweetness or thechewiness.”

“It’s because we always made themtogether.”

God, my achingheart.

I cast a look over my shoulder, thinking about the email sitting in my inbox since yesterday, the one I’ve read a dozen times. “I emailed my mom. She’s in LA. She said she’d meetme.”

Tyler closes the distance between us. “Wow. That’s huge. You could come to LA with us when we go for the party. You don’t even have to tell your dad thereason.”

I turn that over. “Maybe I will. What kind of activity says, ‘We’ve never met, but let’s connect asgrownups’?”

“Flyfishing.”

I laugh. “Or drinks. Somewhere quiet but not so quiet you can feel theawkwardness.”

“I can suggest a fewplaces.”

“Thanks.” We share asmile.

“You’re so good with Sophie,” I can’t help saying. “You wantkids?”

“Depends who with. I figured you and I’d have three. The first one to practice. The second would be the refined model. The third, just because we were so fucking good at making the firsttwo.”

I nearly drop the woodenspoon.

The microwave beeps, and he removes the bowl before turning back to me. “We didn’t have great childhoods, but we wouldn’t put our kids through that. It doesn’t mean everything would go smoothly, but we’d love the hell of out ofthem.”

Tyler sets the bowl on the counter and takes the spoon from between my fingers, as if he didn’t blow me apart a second ago with this wild and enthralling idea of usprocreating.

We’re too young to think about it, but I know Tyler would be a great dad. He’d be caring and patient and consistent. He’d always take an interest, have a sense of humor about thingstoo.

“Are you asking me to have your kids?” I try to make it a joke, to hide the longing in myvoice.

He traces the handle down my forehead, my nose, my lips. “I’m telling you I’ve thought about it. With you, I’ve thought abouteverything.”

My heart squeezes and I try to make sense of the jumble of feelings and thoughts swirling insideme.

“So you’ll come to LA when we go?” he asks abruptly before I canrespond.

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