"I was thinkin' like a Bernese Mountain Dog. They're great farm and ranch dogs, plus they're amazin' with kids. Good work dog, good family dog. Win-win."
He nods along while chewing his food. "Okay, I can agree with that. What do you wanna name him?"
"Why do you assume we're gettin' a boy dog?"
"Oookay, what do ya wanna nameher?"
"Depends which month she's born and time of year."
He gives me a weary look. "Why's that matter?"
"Because it'll determine if she gets a summer name or a winter name."
He smiles around his fork as if he's holding back from laughing at me. "Alright, let's say she's born in summer."
"Sunny, Daisy, Mango, Callie." Just to name a few.
"Cute. What if she's born in winter?"
"Ivy, Cocoa, Luna, Holly."
He arches a brow. "What if she's born in the fall?"
"Ah, trick question." I smirk, quickly thinking. "Belle, Willow, Ember, Hazel."
"How do you come up with these so fast?"
"I've been keepin' track of baby names I like since I was twelve."
"So you have our baby's names picked out too?"
I chuckle, lifting my shoulder slightly. "Maybe, maybe not."
"I'd like a Great Dane named Hank."
"Hank?" I snort, taking a sip of my champagne.
"Hank Hollis! Doesn't that sound badass?"
"Oh my God," I gasp, some of the liquid going up my nose.
"So how soon do you wanna have babies and dogs?" he asks, handing me a napkin for my face.
"Uh, well...accordin' to my OB and mother, I'm not gettin' any younger and neither are my eggs. I'll be considered high-risk when I'm thirty-five."
"That's still four years away."
"Right, but if we want three kids and each pregnancy takes nine months plus however long it takes to get pregnant, I should be pregnant with the first one..." I do the math in my head since I'll be thirty-two soon. "Within the next three months if I want to avoid the potential high-risk flag during my third pregnancy."
His Adam's Apple bobs when he swallows his food down. "Okay, then...well, I mean, after the thirty days are up, we should consider uh...makin' it happen within that timeframe."
I push my tongue into my cheek to keep from laughing at how flustered he sounds. "Are you sweatin'?"
"No, well, if I am, it's because I was in the hot kitchen. Not because we're talkin' about babies."
"Mm-hmm. Maybe we start with a dog, then?"
"I wasn't sweatin' over that," he urges.
