Page 159 of My Real Love Affair

Austin grunted, pulling me close again. “I’m going to have to go back down and fire him. If he saw even a hint of nipple, I will make sure he never gets another job in the city.”

“You will not. He was sweet. And very thorough about documenting my identity in case I turned out to be an axe murderer. And he didn’t see any nipples. At least, not mine.”

“Still. Can’t have random beautiful women talking their way into my penthouse.”

“I’m not random. I’m your girlfriend.”

“My girlfriend who breaks into my home.”

I kissed him quickly. “Now sit. Dinner’s almost ready.”

We ate at his dining table, one I suspected had never actually been used for dining before tonight. In fact, I didn’t want to think what past residents of the penthouse suite had used the table for.

Gross.

The chicken was perfectly roasted, the potatoes were creamy and garlicky, the vegetables were caramelized, and the gravy was rich and perfect.

“This is incredible,” Austin said, going back for seconds. “Where did you learn to cook like this?”

“My mom. Sunday dinners were a big thing in our house growing up. She taught me that food is love.” I smiled, watching him enjoy the meal I’d made. “I don’t cook much anymore. Too busy. But I wanted to do this for you.”

“I’m glad you did.” He reached across the table to take my hand. “This is perfect. Thank you.”

We ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes, and then Austin set down his fork, looking at me with that intense expression that meant he was thinking about something serious. I wasn’t sure if that scared me or made me happy. Was he going to break up with me? We’d been official less than a week. Maybe he realized he wasn’t cut out to be a boyfriend.

I kept my cool. “What’s up?” I asked.

“Can I ask you some questions?”

“Of course.”

“About the future. Your future. What you want out of life.”

I wasn’t expecting that. “Okay. Like what?”

“Like, do you see yourself getting married?”

“Yes.” The answer came easily. I didn’t even have to think about it. “I’ve always wanted to get married. I think—in the next five years? That feels right.”

“And kids?”

My heart started beating faster. These weren’t casual questions. I felt like I was being interviewed. “Yes. Definitely. Two or three would be amazing. I’ve always wanted a family.”

“How do you see yourself balancing work and motherhood?”

I thought about that. Really thought about it. “I think I want to be an involved mother. Stay home. Put work on the backburner for a while.” I paused. “I know that’s not very feminist of me or whatever. But I built my career myself. It’ll still be there. And I think I could find ways to incorporate fashion into postpartum and motherhood. It would be a whole new adventure. Still authentically me, just in a different phase.”

Austin was quiet, absorbing this. “You’ve really thought about this.”

“I have. I know what I want.” I studied his face. “Why are you asking? Where is this coming from?”

“I guess I just want to know as much as I can about you. About what you want. About who you are.”

“Okay. But now I get to ask you the same questions.”

He suddenly looked like he wanted to vomit.

That couldn’t be good.