back to Athens and hang out with Plato and talk about the meaning of life?”
“No. I’d want to visit Sunny and Lu as old ladies. I’d want to sit and talk to my girls and ask them about their life.”
“Aw.” She’s clearly moved by that answer.
“Plus, I’m dying to find out if we ever cure cancer or invent flying cars and find out if global warming obliterates the planet like they say it will. What about you?”
“Oh, future all the way. Fuck the past.”
“Fuck it.”
“Bitch.”
“Motherfucker.” I laugh. “Okay. Ask me a really good one. Something that’d be really hard to choose.”
She thinks. “Would you rather have to listen to One Direction or Justin Bieber every single time we engage in any kind of sexual act for the rest of our lives?”
“Oh my God! Are you Satan?”
She laughs. “You have to choose.”
“No.”
“Yes. You can’t play the game and not follow the rules.”
I scowl.
“Pick.”
I shake my head.
“Jonas Faraday. Yes. No pussing out.”
I exhale. “One Direction.”
“I knew it!” She hoots with laughter. “You secretly like my boys as much as I do.”
I try to suppress my smile. “They’re okay, actually. Except for that one with the douche-y hair and the butterfly tattoos.”
“Harry.”
“Yeah. Harry.”
“Oh my God, Jonas. He’s the cutest one—the bad boy.”
“Douche.”
“Aw, you’re just jealous.”
“Yeah, I’m jealous of Harry from One Direction. That’s me.”
She laughs. “He’s adorable. Seriously. Now there’s one I’d go back in a time machine for.”
“You wanna steal Harry Styles’ eighteen-year-old virginity?”
“Yeah, good thing I’d only have to go back in my time machine by two years. Probably wouldn’t even get jet lag.”
I laugh. “You funny.”
“I funny.” She beams at me. “You’ve got to admit their songs are hella catchy.”
“I will admit that many of One Direction’s songs are extremely well written by their team of professional songwriters.”
She laughs. “Oh, Jonas, I love you.”
“And I love you.”
“Okay. I’ve got a good one. Would you rather never go down on me again, ever, or never fuck me again?”
I shake my head. “You’re evil.”
“Answer it.”
“I refuse to answer based on the religious freedoms granted to me by the First Amendment.”
She scoffs.
“You’re asking me to choose between my religion and my vice.”
“That’s the whole point of this game—you have to pick between two impossible choices.”
“Well, in this hypothetical, if I go down on you, can you give me a handjob while I do it?”
“Yes. With lots and lots of lube—followed by the best blowjob ever, every freaking time. And we can sixty-nine, too, every single day. Just no intercourse. Ever again. As long as you live. No cock burrowing deep, deep into me, never, ever, ever, ever—”
“Stop! Enough already! The pain.” I shake my head like she’s torturing me. “Fine. You wore me down. I can’t live without fucking you, baby—you know that.”
She laughs.
“But it pains me even hypothetically to give up tasting you for the rest of my life. Even hypothetically, the thought of never going down on you again, never giving you that exquisite kind of pleasure again, never feeling your hard clit swirling around against my tongue until you start opening and shutting against my mouth ...” I pause. “Shit.”
“You just gave yourself a giant woody?”
I nod.
She laughs.
“Having a massive boner while holding my infant daughter isn’t my favorite thing.”
Sunny makes a little whimpering noise against Sarah’s chest.
“Take her temperature again, baby. I’m worried.”
Sarah grabs the sensory thermometer and puts it against Sunny’s forehead. She sighs with relief. “It went down a full degree,” she says. “Thank God. You think that means her fever’s breaking?”
“I sure hope so. Is it time for Tylenol yet?”
Sarah looks at her watch. “No, thirty minutes.”
We rock in the gliders for a long moment, both of us stroking whichever baby we happen to be holding.
“How about this one?” I say. “Would you rather piss yourself every time you listen to music or every time you have an orgasm?”
She flashes me a sardonic look. “Oh, real subtle, Jonas.”
“What?” I ask, feigning innocence.
“Oh, gosh, I dunno. Hmm,” Sarah says. “Could your question possibly be designed to create a teaching moment, oh, Lord-God-Master?”
“And here I thought I was so clever.”
“You can’t use your Jedi mind tricks on me, Jonas. I’m too smart.”
“Fine. But at least tell me your answer, even if my motives are obvious.”
Genuine anxiety flickers across her face, but then disappears. “No. I’m not gonna answer this one,” she says matter-of-factly.
“You’re the one who said we have to answer the questions no matter what. I answered a really tough one. Come on.”
“That wasn’t a tough one.