“The results of our discussion could mean we’re over?” he repeated.
Suddenly, what I said in my drunken state penetrated and I whispered, “Yes,” then said, “Maybe.”
“Fuck, how did drinks with the girls bring us back here?” he growled.
“You’re forty-one,” I told him.
“Yeah, I am.”
“Gwen told me,” I shared.
“And?”
“And…” I hesitated then carried on, “I want kids.”
“And?”
I blinked.
“And, well, you’re forty-one.”
“We covered that, Red.”
“Plus, you have two kids,” I reminded him.
“I know that,” he told me.
“And they’re almost grown.”
“This is also something I know.”
“So, I’m thirty-five.”
“Got your job application, babe, read it. I know that too.”
“So I have no time to waste,” I said softly.
“Say again?”
“My biological clock is ticking,” I explained.
His hands came up and curled around either side of my head as his head came down and his face got in mine. “We’re skippin’ this back and forth shit, babe. Spit it the f**k out.”
“I calculated it,” I told him and stopped speaking.
“Think I already told you we’re skippin’ the back and forth shit, Tyra,” Tack warned and I hastily went on to explain.
“I calculated it. If this works with wooing time, as it were, engagement, wedding, time alone together, by the time we could get down to making babies, you’ll be forty-three, forty-four. And you’ve got two kids already grown. You won’t want to start over.”
His hands slid down to the sides of my neck and he asked, “Who says?”
I blinked again and my heart jumped.
Then I whispered, “You want more kids?”
“Sure. I like kids.”
My heart leaped and my voice was pitched high when I asked, “Really?”