Page 92 of I Love You, So What?

He pulls back just enough to break our kiss. His fingers run along the side of my face before cupping my cheek. His mouth twinges with a smirk as he says, “Tastes like your tongue is pretty black to me.” He kisses me on the nose before readjusting himself back in his own chair and takes his last bite of paella.

As I pick up my fork to take one more bite too, my phone vibrates on the table. Being eight hours ahead of the West Coast, I wonder who could be texting me. My eyes widen as they scan the picture from Avery of a white stick with two pink lines. “Oh my God!” I scream as I happy dance in my seat before responding to the text with a string of the most exciting gifs I can find.

“Are you going to tell me what that ridiculously adorable dance was about or do I need to guess?”

I set my phone back on the table and turn toward Dean, my leg bending up on the chair. “Avery is pregnant!” I squeal. The way his smile brightens his face makes me think he’s happier about my happiness than he is about the news.

“That is exciting,” he says. He pauses then adds, “Do you want to go home for a bit, once we’re finished here?”

“Oh, umm.” I hadn’t considered what we’d do next. We still have four months here, and we’ve been winging life since we got back together–making decisions in the moment. “Maybe when the baby comes? Would that be okay?”

“Yes, of course. She’s family. I miss mine too. We can stay as long as you want.”

I let my gaze drift to the rice fields behind us as I think back to a vision that’s consistently appeared over the past decade of Avery and me raising our kids together. I’m not sure when it shifted, but that’s not what I want anymore. I shake my head. “Maybe we can just spend the holidays at home?”

His eyes glimmer with the smile void from his face as he asks, “You don’t want to stay and raise your kids near her?”

“I’d rather show our kids the world.” The words come out before the realization that we’ve never had this conversation hits me, and it occurs to me I’ve made a huge assumption. “I mean…” I try to backtrack. “Do you want kids?” I ask, nervously picking at the wicker at the edge of the table.

“I wantyou,” he says softly, running his hand sensually up my arm, and he waits for my eyes to lock on his. “You’re enough for me, Maci. But any other adventure you want, I want too.”

“Really?” I search his eyes for the truth in his answer.

“Really. I think we’d be great parents.”

“Me too. But…” He rubs his thumb across my skin where it’s settled at the nape of my neck, encouraging me to finish my thought. “I think I want you all to myself for a little longer first, though.” I grin thinking about how many adventures we’ll get to have together, just the two of us, and how many more we’ll have with a family.

As he leans in to kiss me, the side door to the restaurant opens, our server walking through with two shot glasses of what look like milk. Dean pulls back to address the server. I watch in adoration as my fiancée converses with him in Spanish.

I smile as he walks away, not having picked up on much of the conversation. You’d think I’d be more fluent by now, but the speed the locals speak makes it hard for me to understand. Luckily, the volunteers and women we’re helping at the sanctuary slow down for me. “I understood ‘shot’ and ‘rice.’ I think.” I laugh.

“Close enough,” he says, handing me one of the shot glasses. “He said it looked like we were celebrating something and thought these could help. This is rice cream liqueur made from rice grown in Valencia.”

“Oooh. That’s so cool.” I clink my tiny glass to his and we both tip our heads back to try the celebratory drink. I expect the burn of alcohol but am surprised when it’s sweet, like liquid rice pudding with a hint of cinnamon or a light version of eggnog. Setting the empty shot on the table I say, “Thanks for being my personal translator and for not making fun of me for not picking up on languages like you do.”

“You’re welcome.” He stands, pulling euros from the wallet in his back pocket to leave on the table.

I stand too. “Hopefully you don’t get tired of doing it everywhere we go.”

“I never get tired of anything we do together,” he says, taking my hand and leading me away from the table.

“Well, remember you love me when we are in country number 87, and I’m making you learnanothernew language.”

He stops on the sidewalk, pulling me to him, bringing our conjoined hands to his lips so he can kiss my fingers. He firmly presses his other hand to my lower back before kissing my lips. “Maci, I will love you in every language, in every country, every single day.”

MACI

“Hey,babe,”echoesthroughthe entryway as the door shuts. I look up from where I’m sitting on the couch to Dean and Marcus walking in from their game of basketball in the driveway.

“Yeah, hey, babe,” Marcus adds, a grin on his face.

We came home from Spain a month ago and have been living with Marcus, in Dean’s old room. He’s always been my favorite friend of Dean’s, and living together has been smooth. We get more than enough alone time. Marcus and Troy spend a lot of time at their bar. We don’t mind having him around, he doesn’t seem to mind having us around either, and we really appreciate having a place to stay until we decide on our next adventure. The only real plans we have are to spend time with Avery and the new baby, and Brooke is coming to visit from Thailand in a few weeks.

“You look incredible,” my fiancé says as I stand from the couch and he pulls me into an embrace. I’m wearing a simple black fit and flare dress, but the way Dean’s face lights up makes me feel like it’s so much more. He kisses my lips as he smooths his hands over my lower back, pressing me closer.

I pull back scrunching my face. “Gross you’re so sweaty.”

“You like me sweaty.” Mischief glimmers in his eyes as he attempts to kiss me again.

---