With the next bite loaded, he said, “More,” and stuck it in again. “You were eating too slow. Feeding before fucking is key.”
“Is it, now?” she asked, hiding her mouth behind her palm.
“Mhm. I’ll embroider that on a pillow.”
“Do you embroider?”
“No, and you need more food. Bite.” He filled her mouth again and again until everything was gone and they moved on to coffee—or he did. She fell back asleep, and he drank both of their mugs while holding her close.
The playlist ended while Fern was out, and Elliott didn’t bother restarting it. The rhythm of her breath was perfect without accompaniment. Her second nap was a short one, only forty-five minutes, and she awoke to him stroking her loose hair.
“Mmm, don’t stop,” Fern murmured when his fingers stilled.
He began again. “I won’t.”
“Is it matin’ time?” Her voice, raspy with sleep, was slanted by a faux southern accent.
Lips twitching, he said, “I reckon soon, sugar. First, we need to talk.”
She lifted her head from his thigh. “Ew, you can’t say that.”
Chuckling, he helped her sit, then got up, stretching after so long in the same position. “It’s not bad. But if we’re doing this—committing,forever—we should probably make absolutely sure we’re on the same page about things.”
“Like...?”
“Kids?”
“Eventually?” she ventured.
“Same here. But do you mean eventually, like, five years or one?” he checked, taking her hand and silently pulling her up from the couch.
“Within five, maybe pregnantat the one-year mark if all goes well? I’m on birth control now.” She kept his left hand in her right, and her free fingers curled over his shoulder. Catching on, he grabbed her waist and pulled her in.
Leading them to the open space behind the sofa, he spun Fern in a silent waltz. “So, we start trying in a year-ish.”
“Maybe a little less?”
“Perfect. Ideal vacation spot?” he asked.
“Honestly?”
“Obviously.”
“The sofa with ten new books.”
He laughed. “Also perfect. Combined bank account, good with you?”
“Yeah. I don’t bring much to the table, though.”
“Sure you do. You lower the electric bill.”
She squinted at him while he whirled them around. “How’s that?”
“Because you light up my life.”
Tossing her head back in bright laughter, Fern did just that—lit him up from the bottom of his soul.
“Okay, my turn,” she wheezed. “Chores?”
