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His brows lift. “So, you’re complaining about getting extra ice cream?”
“It’s been a big day,” I tell him.
Sophie, having given up on arguing with him, quietly licks her ice cream while I pay.
Then out of nowhere, she announces, “Oh, did I tell you? We missed our window for anal.”
She looks up from her cone to find me and the ice cream man staring at her, then glances down the line at the small children waiting.
“Oops,” she cringes. “Did I say that really loud?”
The ice cream vendor shakes his head and waves us on, and I toss a twenty in his tip cup for his patience.
I place my free hand on her lower back, guiding her away from the ice cream cart.
I can see the storm of emotion behind her eyes. It’s clear there is so much going on in her brain. Even if it doesn’t make sense to me, I want to be supportive.
“What are you saying? We missed our window for anal?”
“The pregnancy book I started reading. The one you picked up this weekend says anal is not recommended during pregnancy. It can cause hemorrhoids, but then it says I might get them anyways, so should we just say fuck it and do anal?”
I take her in. A red dress and sandals. Wavy blonde hair cascading over her shoulders, her green eyes wild with uncertainty. She looks beautiful. We’re eating ice cream in Central Park and we just found out we’re having twins and she’s talking about anal.
This sexy, creative, and adorably quirky woman has my heart.
“What do you think?” she asks, giving her ice cream another lick.
“I love you.”
Her eyes go wide. “What?”
She seems as surprised by my ‘I love you’ as I was by her bringing up anal.
“I love you, Sophie. I’ve loved you for a while now, but I haven’t told you because I didn’t want to freak you out.”
“And now is the best time to tell me because I’m already freaking out?” she asks.
“Yeah. Maybe. I don’t know, I just couldn’t keep it in any longer.”
“Did you say it the other night? When I was falling asleep?”
“Yeah,” I nod, thinking of the other night when she was in my arms and the words slipped out. “I thought you were already asleep.”
She’s quiet a moment and I wonder if it’s too much. If confessing my love while she’s still taking in all the information from the doctor’s appointment was a good idea. But seeing our babies on the screen, hearing their healthy heartbeats fill the exam room, and knowing I’m undoubtedly in love with her, I needed to say it.
I study her for a moment. She’s still slowly licking her ice cream cone.
“I don’t expect—" I start.
“I wasn’t ready for you,” she says, her gaze caught on something in the distance.
I’m about to ask her what she means, but she continues.
“I wanted to focus on my career and get my own apartment. To travel, and figure everything else in my life out first. Then, when the time was right, I’d start dating and eventually, fall in love.”
“Your five-year plan.”
She nods, her focus still over my shoulder, but I can’t take my eyes off her.
