Viggo’s gaze didn’t waver from the road. “Okay. What should we say?”
“I don’t know. Something.”
“You brought it up. You go first.”
I inhaled deeply. “I think we’re attracted to each other.”
“You do?” he deadpanned.
“Yeah. I guess now we just have to decide if we’re going to ignore that attraction or act on it.”
“Big decision.”
“Don’t get sarcastic with me.” I wagged a finger at him like an irate schoolteacher. “This is very sketchy behavior for an almost first-time parent-to-be.”
“You don’t think parents have sex?” he snarked.
“Gross. But yes…of course they do.”
Viggo shrugged. “Then maybe it’s not a big deal.”
“Maybe not, but I’m a queer parent-to-be and we both know the rules are different. I have to rise to a higher standard to prove I’m worthy of the job. No more random pickups with men or women I hope I never run into again. Not that I did that often…I didn’t. Nonetheless, I have to be better than that, be smarter.”
Viggo took his eyes off the road for a moment and smiled. I hated that I felt gooey all over, but whatever…I was past pretending I had my libido under control.
“Are you planning to have a relationship with your right hand for the next eighteen years?”
“Very funny.”
“It’s a fair question,” he insisted. “You’re young, and you’re not too hideous to look at.”
“Gee, thanks.”
Viggo snorted. “The point is…I don’t think parenthood means you have to become a monk.”
“So you think we should…”
“Maybe. But it’s complicated.”
He didn’t continue, and I wasn’t brave enough to go there on my own.
“How long have you lived in Wood Hollow?” I asked, my gaze fixed on the ribbon of road ahead.
“Three years.”
“Have you lived anywhere in the States other than Minnesota and Vermont?”
“No.”
Good chat.
I tried again. “You don’t mind the cold, eh?”
“No.”
“Do you want to listen to music or a podcast?”
“Okay.”
