She leaned across the console and placed a light kiss to the corner of my mouth. “Thank you,” she whispered against my lips.
The diner wasn’t dead, but it wasn’t crowded either. I tipped my chin at the server, Elizabeth, and guided Lydia to one of the open booths in the back, my hand pressed lightly into the curve of her lower back.
The red vinyl seats, Formica tables, and the smell of comfort food hadn’t changed in the forty years this place had been open. A family with four kids, all under the age of ten, were squeezed into the booth next to us. The two older girls were arguing about some imaginary slight while the younger brother tried to broker the peace. The littlest girl, sitting in a high chair at the end of the table, was smashing her potatoes into mush on her plastic tray.
The harried-looking mother turned to us with a chagrined smile before addressing her daughters. “Girls, you’re being very rude in this restaurant. People are trying to enjoy their dinner. Please quiet down.”
Chaos erupted. One of the girls went into immediate defensive mode, throwing her sister under the bus for being the loud one, as she screamed her innocence. “Mom, it’s not me. Charlotte started it. She said that my meal was gross, and she wouldn’t even try it. She’s being mean.”
“It is gross,” her sister yelled. “You can’t put broccoli in chocolate pudding and then add ketchup. That doesn’t even go together.”
“Yes, it does, because I’m the best chef in town, and everyonesays so.”
“Nah-uh.”
“Yes-uh.”
“Emmy,” the father said, looking at his daughter in exasperation, “you don’t actually have to eat it. It’s just make-believe. How about we focus on the real food that’s on your plate instead of making up new ideas for your pretend restaurant.”
The parents continued to try to wrangle their kids into eating their dinner. Lydia and I ordered our dinners, which I had to admit sounded a lot better than whatever those mini-psychos were coming up with.
“Kids are insane,” Lydia whispered.
A grin split my face. “I was thinking the same,” I said. “Jane and Veda are cool, but just wait until they get a little older. And then add Luke and Scarlett’s boy to the mix in a few weeks.” I shook my head. I could already see the chaos that was going to be the next generation of Wilder’s. “That’s why I’m the uncle. Sugar highs, fun times, teach them how to prank their parents, and then send them home.” I was going to be the favorite uncle. Didn’t matter that I wasn’t actually related to them. The rest of them would be dads in their own rights, Reid included. He wasn’t a father yet, but he was right behind them, we could all see that. Me, I would just be the cool uncle that they could talk to about anything. Unless…did Lydia want kids?“I mean, maybe if they were my own, it would be different. I’m not opposed to kids.”
Smooth, Seb. Good save.
“Oh, do you, like, want kids?” Lydia asked, her eyes rounded.
Shit. I wished I had asked her that question first. I’d rather hear her thoughts on the matter before I shared mine.
“I don’t really know. I haven’t put much thought into it, except how to avoid it. I’d be open to it though, I guess, maybe?” I searched her eyes, trying to guess her thoughts.
“Would it be a deal breaker if you were with someone who… say… doesn’t want kids?”
“Is that where you stand?” I asked.
“I don’t want you to tell me what you think I want to hear. I want to know how you really feel about it.”
Problem was, I one hundred percent wanted to tell her whatever it was she wanted to hear. If she wanted to have kids, I would put a baby in her right now. If she didn’t, I would be good with that too. Probably better with that, but I didn’t want to give her any reason to leave.
“I told you how I feel. I haven’t put any thought into it. Do you want to have some kids one day? Some even littler wilds running around that look just like me?” I grinned, lighting the mood.
“Honestly, no.” She shook her head. “I love Jane and Veda. I do. And I’ll love Luke’s little boy and any others my brothers decide to have. But I’ve never really had this maternal urge to procreate, and the older I get, the less inclined I am to try the whole motherhood thing out,” she said.
Elizabeth dropped off our plates, and we both started eating. I could tell Lydia still had something on her mind though. I kicked her foot under the table, tipping my chin to her for her to continue. We understood each other without any words. Lydia rolled her eyes before picking up the thread of the conversation again.
“When I was in college, I took a psychology course as an elective. As part of the lesson plan, we had to go to three therapy sessions. I told the therapist that I didn’t want tohave kids,” she said. She forked a massive head of broccoli into her mouth angrily—thankfully, no chocolate pudding or ketchup involved. “He told me that it was a trauma response to my mom dying and that later in life, that would change. I tried to tell him that I didn’t want to be a mom when I was a kid either. I didn’t play house or pick up babysitting jobs. I was too busy trying to climb a tree faster than Reid or race Luke on our bikes. It didn’t have anything to do with my mom, but he refused to listen. So apparently, I just have to wait for that biological clock to go off, and my entire perspective will flip in an instant.”
“You know what you want in life and what you don’t. You always have. Some random dude sitting in a fancy chair has no right to tell you how to feel.”
“Yeah. I know that.” She shrugged. “So, now you know my thoughts on that subject. Is that a deal breaker?”
“Fuck, no. When it comes to you, Lydia, there are no deal breakers.” She pointed a look at me like she didn’t like that answer. “But…” I continued, “on this topic, we already agree. Being an uncle is more than enough for me.”
Her eyes brightened, an invisible load lifting from her shoulders. “Okay then.”
“Eat up,” I said. “We still have another stop on this date night, and just because we don’t want to make a baby doesn’t mean I don’t want to practice it with you.” Lydia shoveled a bite into her mouth, licking the fork clean and slowly pulling it out between her kissable lips.
