Page 29 of My One
“How can you know?”
Nic gave me a weak smile. “Because I know you. You’re the most loving person I know. Look at how you treat Cheyenne. Why do you think you’d treat our kid differently?”
I shrugged.
“See? Your parents did shape you, but they shaped you to be the opposite of them because you know whatnotto do.”
“You think that’s true?”
“I know that’s true. You’ll see when we have a kid.”
“When we have a kid?” I questioned. We’d been together for over two and a half years, but I didn’t want to press her about it because I knew it had been harder on Nicole when we lost the baby.
She shrugged timidly. “I think I should get off the pill.”
“Yeah?” I grinned.
“Yeah.”
“Okay.”
“Okay? Just like that?”
“Just like that.”
I grabbed her hand and walked across the roof and through the metal door. Without stopping, I knocked twice on Devin’s door to let him know we were leaving. After we took the elevator down to the garage, we slid into the car, and I drove us to the hotel I’d booked for the night where we recreated our wedding night all over again.
And then some.
“So, how was your night?” I asked Brooke as we ate dinner at her place. Both Easton and Avery were working because it was Saturday night and someone had called in.
She smirked around a mouthful of salad.
“Okay, spill. I’ll tell you about mine if you tell me about yours.”
Brooke took a sip of her water. “We went to a barn upstate for dinner—”
“A barn?”
“Well, it wasn’t like a barn inside. It was like the ones we see on TV that are redone for weddings and stuff. It was beautiful. We had dinner and then sat on a blanket under the stars. It was a nice night. How was yours?”
“We went to some rooftop in Manhattan and had dinner and danced under the stars with candles scattered around before going to a hotel for the night.”
“Sounds like both of our nights were romantic.”
I smiled. “Yeah, sounds like it. How’d we get so lucky?”
“I have no idea,” Brooke admitted.
We took a few bites of our pasta, and then Cheyenne stormed through the front door, slamming it and stomping to her room where she slammed that door too.
“What was that about?” I looked back at Brooke.
“Pre-teen.”
Cheyenne was almost thirteen and giving Easton gray hair. I couldn’t imagine having a teenager yet, let alone a pre-teen daughter who was becoming a woman.
“Has Aunt Flo made a visit?”
