“You better not be reading about us,” Shane said, settling into the armchair next to her. She scrunched up her face guiltily.
“It’s wild. Like, I knew people would care, but I didn’t think they’d carethismuch. Jasmine just sent me a fuckingNew York Timesthing about it.” She turned off the screen and placed it facedown on the table next to her, gratefully accepting the paper cup of mixed nuts he offered her.
“It’s just because it’s new. I’m sure people will get over it in a week.”
She shrugged, but her gaze was distant. “Yeah.”
He stretched his legs straight out in front of him, unscrewing the cap of his water bottle. “Is it time for us to talk now?”
“About what?”
“You know.” He waved his hand between them. “Us. The future. We kind of just dove headfirst into everything.”
The corner of her mouth twitched. It was possible she wasn’tthinking about everything they’d literally dove into headfirst over the past twelve hours, but nowhesure was. “Right. That would probably be the responsible thing to do.”
“What about marriage?”
She raised an eyebrow. “Is that a proposal?”
“Trust me, if it was, you’d know. But ithasbeen nine years, some might argue it’s overdue.”
He could tell she was fighting back a smile. “So, what? You just want my thoughts on the institution in general?”
He shrugged. “I don’t want to assume. I could see you as the live-together-for-decades-without-ever-putting-a-ring-on-it type.”
She settled back into her chair, casting her eyes to the ceiling as she thought about it. “I’m not against it. But I’m not taking your name.”
He snorted. “I don’t care about that. I’ll takeyourname, who gives a fuck.”
“Maybe we should just take each other’s names. Like, fully switch. First, middle, and last.”
“We can save that for when things quiet down and we really need some attention.” He took a sip from his water bottle. “So, do I need to start looking into converting to Judaism?”
“Not unless you want to get in good with my grandparents. And they’re all dead, so. That’s gonna be an uphill battle already. What are you now? Catholic?”
“In theory. But I’m like you, I really only ever went to Mass with my grandparents.”
“Of course you are,” she said with a wry smile. “Catholic guys are always obsessed with me for some reason. Maybe they can sense we have that shared culture of guilt in common. Or maybe they just think I’m Irish.”
“Well, all those other Catholic guys are gonna have to get in line.”
“At least they’re used to it.”
He leaned in, his voice dropping low. “They’re used to being on their knees, too.”
She grinned, but he could see her cheeks redden. “Don’t sound so excited. We’re in public, remember.”
“Get your mind out of the gutter. Maybe I’m still talking about proposing.”
She laughed again, her blush deepening, her eyes meeting his with a warmth that made his stomach do a strange flip.
She loves me.
The thought popped into his head involuntarily, for what felt like the thousandth time since the previous night. It was still so hard to wrap his mind around that all he could do was repeat it over and over like a mantra.
Gradually, though, her smile faded.
“What about kids?” She glanced down as she said it, and he sensed her apprehension behind the studied casualness.
