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“From what?”
I rolled my eyes.
He jerked back. “Football?”
“Yes, football. What else would you be retiring from?”
Grabbing the kids menu and crayons, he gave it to Ben.
“I have no plans on retiring anytime soon.”
“Jax, you’re going to be thirty-five soon, which is the average age of quarterbacks retiring from the NFL.”
“Is that supposed to sway me?”
“You’re undefeated this season. You know you’re going to win the Super Bowl. Don’t you want to retire on a high?”
“No.”
“Jax…”
“What is the real issue of you wanting me to retire?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because you’re the father of my child, and I don’t want you to end up in the hospital again with another concussion.”
“I haven’t had one in two years, Sophie.”
“That doesn’t mean you won’t get another one.”
“I barely get tackled on the field. You have nothing to worry about.”
“We’re trying for another baby. I’d like for my two kids—”
“I want five.”
“Five what?”
“Kids.” He thought about it for a second. “Maybe six.”
“Umm … are you saying you want me to be pregnant for the next seven years?”
He kissed me. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
* * *
—Jax—
* * *
“Ben, there’s building blocks over there. Why don’t you go build us something?”
He beamed. “Okay, Dad!”
Quickly, he ran toward the corner of the balcony where he was still in our sight.
“This can’t be good if you made Ben go away.”
I chuckled. “Mommy knows me so well. Caleb is going to watch Ben for a few hours when we get back to the hotel.”
