Page 74 of Touch of Class

“I am!” Gillian laughed. “You referred to the woman who cemented your cougar status as ‘wife.’”

Brooke shook her head, but her eyes danced in a way Gillian had come to associate with Tegan. “I love her.”

“That’s not a news flash. You loved her the whole time, you big sap. Skip to the marriage part.”

“That’s kind of the point. I don’t want to skip to any part, but I’m also feeling a new awareness of the timeline.”

“What timeline?”

“I’m turning forty next year.”

Gillian’s chest tightened at the reminder she’d already crossed that threshold. “And?”

“And we’ve been together a little over a year.”

“You’ve been together longer if we count the moment you first slept together.”

“Fair,” Brooke said, “but we’ve only been living together, like, six months, and things are so good. I don’t want to rush any of this. I want to take my time and do every step the right way, but also, the clock is ticking.”

Gillian grimaced. “Women talking about clocks ticking feels very off-brand for us. We’re more than that. You and Tegan are more than that.”

“You wanted to talk honestly again, and feminist ideology or not, that’s honestly where I’m at.”

“Okay. I do want the real talk. Lay it on me.”

Brooke shifted on the couch slightly. “Even if she agreed to marry me today, we could spend a year planning, and we’d want a year to enjoy being newlyweds before we’d start talking about a baby. Then even if it all goes smoothly, which I know as well as anyone doesn’t always happen, it would be at least another year before a baby actually arrives.”

“A baby?” Gillian’s head spun. “When did we start talking about babies?”

“You and I started right now … she and I started talking before she moved in.”

“Yet another thing I missed,” she mused softly.

“Obviously, Tegan would have to carry, given my history, but I’d be like forty-three when we became moms, which means I’d be sixty-one when that kid graduates from high school, and what if we want more than one? College and retirement could collide for me when Tegan is still in the prime of her—”

“I sat through that as long as I could, but if you don’t stop there, you’ll have us both dead and buried before we eat our second donut. Is it possible you’re getting ahead of yourself?”

Brooke managed to look mildly chagrinned. “Maybe, but I didn’t get ahead of myself at all in my first marriage. I rushed in, too young, without examining the big picture. I made a mistake, a lot of mistakes.”

“You didn’t make a mistake because you failed to do some kind of math homework on the rest of your life. You made a mistake because you did what you thought you were supposed to do, what society said you were supposed to do. You were young and inexperienced and oblivious. You’re none of those things anymore, and all cougar jokes aside, neither is Tegan.”

“A fact she’s pointed out to me many times.”

“Good for her,” Gillian continued. “You’ve both done the work. You know yourself, and we’ve analyzed this relationship within an inch of all our lives, but at the end of the day, no one else’s expectations or rules or best practices matter more than what you know is right.”

“I don’t know—”

“You do,” Gillian said flatly. “Cut the crap. We’re not at work. You don’t need to journal or meditate or take five deep breaths. You already slipped and used the w-word.”

Brooke closed her eyes, and her lips curled up as a wash of peace came over her features. Gillian got the strange sense she was seeing a mirror of herself after she’d kissed Daphne, and she was hit with an unexpected wave of intimacy, along with perhaps a hint of envy, because Brooke clearly had all her answers.

As blue eyes fluttered open, it was clear they may not be the answers Gillian would’ve chosen or the “right” answers by any outside measure, but they didn’t have to be. They were the right answers for her.

“You know what you want,” Gillian said softly.

“Yes.” Brooke cheeks flushed as she said, “I want to spend the rest of my life with her. I want to put a ring on her finger and wear a white dress and spend nights cuddling by the fire. I want a baby with her eyes in the world. I want to push swings and strollers in Delaware Park and take too many pictures of a little girl with golden hair in a dance recital.”

“Could be a little boy with golden hair in a T-ball uniform, or a little girl in a T-ball uniform for that matter.”