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“I’m perfectly happy with how my life is. I don’t need to be ‘settled’ with a husband and kids and pair of Schnauzers to feel complete.”
“What about a pair of corgis?” Mum jokes, prompting me to roll my eyes. She sighs. “Look, Wes, all I’m saying is maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing to at least keep your mind open to thepossibility.You’re going to be forty soon—do you know what I was doing when I was forty? Raisingteenagers,” she says pointedly.
“Okay, first of all,” I begin, pinning her with a hard look, “I’m still thirty-eight for another four months so how about we stop with the rounding up? And secondly, you can’t scare me with the biological clock thing. I have another forty good years yet before I need to worry about settling down.”
“By which pointwe’llbe long in the ground,” she mutters.
“Just as long as the will’s in order first,” I tease.
Mum’s expression turns shrewd as she glances at Dad. “Hmm…Steven, are we allowed to put a clause in the will that says Wes doesn’t get anything if he doesn’t give us grandchildren?”
“We can do anything we want, my dear—it’s our money,” Dad says.
Mum arches a challenging brow at me, prompting me to let out a soft chuckle, shaking my head wryly. I’m definitely going to have to get one of those conversation prompt books for our next dinner; there’s not a chance I’ll be sitting through another torture session like this one. Not even Mum’s roast is worth it.
