disappeared and consider shooting a flare up into the sky for help. Come back! I’m sorry! I’ll never choose your mom over you for dodgeball again!
But I’m a man. It’s time to grow a pair and give these women what they want. I roll my shoulders once and tilt my head side to side. Then, I take turns looking around the gang of women that I would never want to face in a dark alley alone.
I point to Evie first. “I’m not going to answer that because that’s a pretty personal question.” Boom. Moving on to Jennie. “A speeding ticket but no criminal record.” Julia. “Haven’t had a serious relationship because I’ve been married to my job.” Now I look at Mrs. Broaden as I answer the remaining questions, because I feel like her opinion matters most. “I’m more serious about June than I’ve ever been about anything in my life, and yes, I want a family. And no, there’s not a chance I have any illegitimate children floating around. Did I answer everything?”
They all stand stunned for a full minute, glancing back and forth between each other before smiles slowly crack across their devious faces, and we all laugh. Bonnie claps me on my shoulder. “I always knew I liked you, Ryan. You’re gonna fit in with us perfectly.”
“I think I have to convince June of that first.”
This is the part where Bonnie should smile and say something encouraging like oh you’ve got nothing to worry about, sugar. She doesn’t. She actually looks a little apologetic. “You’re right about that. And it won’t be easy. She’s pretty set in her ways. I love my baby girl and will support her until the day I die, but I’ve gotta be honest, Ryan…I hope you can convince her, because I’d kill to see what a baby between you and June would look like.”
We’ve jumped from getting past date number one to wheeling June out of a hospital with a baby in her arms. Moms truly are a force to be reckoned with. But here’s the thing, does it make me less of a man if I say I’ve been dreaming of the same thing? Last night, I pictured June in a house of our own, with a kid on her hip, singing and making pancakes. When I told her the other day that I’ve been having dreams that would make her blush, I’m willing to bet she had no idea they were the PG kind about our life as a family.
But I’m thirty-one years old. I’m ready for all of it. A family. Diaper changes. Late-night runs to get whatever insane thing June is craving from the store. The whole nine yards. I can see it perfectly. And although I know that even IF June and I make this work, we won’t actually be in a place to get married for a while, I can still easily picture it.
“Do you have any advice for me?” I ask Bonnie.
She tells the sisters to give us a minute alone and then turns to me and smiles. It perfectly resembles the sort of smile June gave me before she slipped a laxative in my coke in the cafeteria (I didn’t know it until later, of course).
“Fortify yourself,” she says ominously. “June has never been one to give up without a fight. Batten down the hatches, and if you really want her, prepare to hold on in rough waters, because mark my words, sugar, there will be rough waters ahead.”
“Not the most encouraging advice.”
She pats my arms. “‘Cause I like you, I’ll tell you something a little more practical to pair with the metaphorical. June doesn't like jumping into cold water. Never has, never will. In the summer, she proceeds inch for inch into the pool until, finally, before she knows it, she’s up to her hair.”
I squint. “This still feels metaphorical.”
“Don’t make her jump into the cold pool, Ryan. Inch her in and let her see for herself that the water’s fine.” She reaches up and pats my cheek, and it makes my stomach ache from how much the action reminds me of my mom.
Bonnie walks out of the kitchen, and I lean back against the counter, trying to let her words settle into my thoughts.
A minute later, June peeks her head into the kitchen. “You still alive in here?” Her brown hair is tied into a cute messy bun at the back of her head, and little wisps are hanging loose around her