Page 58 of Booked for Kidnapping

My eyes widened. “Oh.”

“I really have no idea why I’m an only child.”

I pointed in the direction of my purse.

He stared at it, sighed, and nodded. “I was probably enough to make my parents reconsider having more children, especially when they could snatch up Jez without having to deal with labor.”

“Very sensible of them, really. Labor does not sound fun.” By not fun, I feared the whole damned pregnancy, although I’d deal with it for the results of said pregnancy. “It sounds traumatic, honestly.”

He nodded.

We spent a rather uncomfortable few minutes in silence, until I asked, “How do you think twenty-seven hours of foot torture compares to labor?”

“My mother likes telling me my big head about killed her, but she did it while smiling, so I don’t know. Maybe she felt I was worth the hassle?”

I regarded my foot with interest. “I think my foot is worth some suffering, so I would probably figure any child of mine would also be worth some suffering. Do you think we’d have librarians?”

“I’m not sure it works that way,” he admitted. “But I’m game to try to have a future librarian. Librarians seem to run in both of our families, so there would have to be decent odds of our children being predisposed for librarianism.”

“Librarianism? What on Earth is librarianism?”

“It’s like vampirism but with librarians. Librarians are mystical beings, likely inflicted with some form of genetic mutation I hereby dub to be librarianism.” Bradley smiled, and after a moment, he grinned with zero evidence of shame over toying with me and my career of choice. “As I have a genetic predisposition for librarianism from my mother, it’s possibly this affliction might be passed on to our children.”

“Affliction!”

He burst into laughter. “You’re so easy, Janette.”

“You are evil, and I will make you pay for that.”

“As my father does give me good advice at times, and you told me to stop being a gentleman, will you be naked when you’re making me pay?”

“Ask me again after lunch.”

Lunch did me in, and rather than stripping Bradley out of his clothes, the instant his father relocated himself to his own room, down a floor and on the other side of the hotel, we indulged in a bath. Bradley read while I napped, and once we turned into prunes, he hauled me out of the tub and took me to bed, where I resumed my nap until dinner time. His father made a reappearance to make sure we ate, but I clocked out again until morning.

I woke before Bradley, escaped his clutches long enough to retrieve my purse and browse the offered variants of birth control, separated them by who was meant to make use of it, and picked up my favorite of the lot, one I’d used as a teen and a young adult when Bradley’s mother had realized my mother likely had zero idea what birth control was or how it should be used.

I’d used it for a while, as it helped with the cramps, but after I’d hit twenty-two, realized I had no interest in men or dating, I’d stopped, pleased to discover the treatment had done me long-term good. Now, with more wisdom and the realization I had been interested in a man and dating, but only with a certain man, I viewed the birth control in a whole new light.

It provided infinite possibilities. I could use it, choose not to use it, only make use of condoms, or get tested for various illnesses and opt against using anything at all. Once I decided which course I wanted to take, I’d then have to discuss it with Bradley, as we had an equal say in what we did or didn’t do.

I glared at the options, eyeing the condoms and the long-term controls with zero idea what I wanted to do about the unexpected situation I found myself in.

“The condoms are the easiest of the lot to deal with, and there’s no uncertainty about fertility after their use. Birth controls, in the various pill or injection formats, are quite handy, but there’s evidence some women become permanently infertile as a result of their use. The one for men also has the same problem,” an amused Bradley said from behind me.

I turned to face him, pointing at my purse. “Your parents think we’re going to turn into rampaging sex fiends, considering how many birth control products I found in that thing.”

“That thing is your purse, and yes. It turns out my mother and my father both went to the pharmacy on our behalf. My mother is responsible for the various long-term options, and my dad is the one responsible for the variety of condoms. While you were sleeping, I got the lecture. Repeatedly.”

“Okay. There are too many options here, Bradley.” I showed him the long-term pills I had grown up using. “It can take up to two years to become fertile again on these.”

“I don’t know if I want to wait two years before attempting to bring forth an infant librarian into the world,” he admitted. “Honestly, I’m quite interested in raising an entire flock of librarians.”

“Librarians gather in flocks?”

“I figured a flock could be up to three. A horde of librarians seems intimidating. My parents only had me, but I suspect librarians are easier to raise than young sons named Bradley. We can provide them with books and instill a driving need to help others. Please do not make us name a son Bradley.”

“I have enough trouble with the one Bradley I have in my life,” I informed him. “I do not need to court additional trouble by naming a child Bradley.”