Page 147 of On His Team

“My dream?”

“Yes.”

He leans back against the couch. I expect him to think forever. He doesn’t. “Family.”

I blink.

“What?”

“Eventually.”

I stare at him. “That is your biggest dream?”

“I don’t know if it’s the biggest.”

“What else?”

“Job I like. House.”

I gawk at him. “That’s it?”

He looks amused. “What else do I need?”

“A yacht.”

He shakes his head. “No.”

“Private island.”

His brow furrows. “No.”

“Stanley paying your mortgage.”

He thinks about that one. “I’d take it.”

I laugh.

He smiles. There is something disarming about how uncomplicated the answer is. Not simple because Rowan lacks ambition. He works harder than almost anyone I know. He takes hockey seriously. He takes school seriously. He has saved job postings and talked about graduate school and still somehow manages to cook actual meals when the rest of Hawthorne survives on protein powder and takeout. But he doesn’t seem embarrassed by wanting an ordinary life. A house. A family. Work he doesn’t hate.

Something about that lodges itself inside me.

“What about you?” Rowan asks.

“I answered.”

“Family.”

“Oh.” I think about it. “Yeah. Probably.”

“Probably?”

I smile. “Yeah, of course. I want kids.”

“How many?”

I look at him. It’s a sweet question. I answer with my fingers, “Two.”

He nods.