Say You Still Love Me(116)

“No. We were talking about life and she started talking about her three kids—”

“She has three kids? Wow. You’d never guess.”

“No! But she knows she wants them. She’s got their names and nursery colors picked out, and everything!”

His eyebrows arch. “Renée sounds a little bit intense.”

I let go of his belt loop and begin pacing around my room. “I know. But she made me realize that here we are, falling deep and fast into this relationship. I’m ready to hand you a key after not even a week together, but I don’t really know you!” Worries that have been simmering all day bubble to the surface now, and I can’t keep the panic from my voice.

“Yes, you do, Piper.”

“I don’t, though. Not anymore. I’m not talking about the little things, like your favorite color or your favorite song, or that you broke your arm when you were six, or that you love jumping off cliffs.” All the small, seemingly important Kyle-facts that I collected over that summer. “I’m talking about the big things.”

He slides his hands into his pockets. “You know about my family. I don’t tell anyone about them, Piper.”

“Yeah, but it’s not even that. I’m talking about the things that will make or break a relationship. Things you don’t talk about when you’re sixteen and skinny-dipping and racing around in golf carts. And I am terrified that once we start finding out all those things about each other, what if we don’t work at all?” What if my mother is right?

Kyle sighs heavily. “Okay.” He reaches for the door.

My anxiety flares. “Where are you going?”

“Relax. I’ll be back in a minute. Just . . . get changed.”

I watch him stroll out the door, wondering if unloading on him like that was the best way to approach this conversation. It’s too late now.

By the time I’ve washed up and pulled on my lounging clothes, Kyle is shifting furniture around the little seating area. I catch the smell of warmed Mexican food and my stomach growls in response.

“Hang out over here with me for a while,” he beckons.

Not until I reach the armchair do I see the tattered blue sleeping bag spread out on the ground, the woven flannel interior faded. No way . . . “That’s not the same one from camp.”

“The one and only.” He smiles and drops down on his knees on one side. “Don’t worry, it’s been washed.” He holds a hand out for me.

“Who knew you were so nostalgic?”

He peers up at me, sincerity shining in his beautiful eyes. “You knew.”

I scan the leather band around his wrist, the tattoo engulfing his arm. “Yeah, you’re right.” I did know that. I settle down next to him, accepting the plate and one of two glasses of red wine. “You drink wine now?”

He chuckles. “Eat, before it gets cold again.”

I marvel at the softness of the worn flannel under my bare feet as I take a mouthful of Spanish rice and chew slowly.

“Yes, I would like to have kids.” Kyle swallows. “Eventually.”

“How many?”

“I figured I’d start with one and see how that goes. Well, unless I end up with twins right off the bat.” He eyes me warily. “Do you have twins in your family?”

I shake my head.

“Me neither. So . . . one to start. Then maybe a second, so I can pit them against each other. It’ll be fun, I promise.”

“You wouldn’t do that. Well, maybe you would.” I laugh, but I don’t miss the underlying message there—he’s talking about us having kids. Together.

My heart skips a beat. Maybe I’m not crazy to have these thoughts sitting heavily in my mind so soon.

He hesitates. “What about you? Do you want kids?”

“I think so. Eventually. I just don’t know how I’m going to fit them into my life.”

I get a soft smile in return. “That’s because you don’t fit kids into your life, Piper. You fit your life around them.”

“How, though?” I push my food around on my plate with my fork. “How do I fit building a twenty-five-story condominium complex around soccer practice and school bake sales?”

“I don’t know. A supportive spouse? A nanny? Good employees?”

“Like Tripp?”

Kyle shakes his head but chuckles. “I want to knock his teeth out every time I see him. You need to get rid of him now.”

I groan. “I’m still waiting on that damn report from the phone company, and who knows if that’ll give me anything. I don’t want to talk about Tripp right now, though. But my dad . . . I think of how hard he’s worked all his life and how hard I work now, and I just don’t see how I can manage kids. As it is, I feel like a kid playing dress-up at an adult party most days. Like I don’t belong in this world.” I’ve never admitted that to anyone. I’ve always been afraid that someone will agree with me, that saying the words out loud will make them true.

“Security guards hear and see a lot more than people give them credit for.” Kyle leans back against one of the armchairs. “Do you know what I see when I’m in that building?”

“Old men staring at my ass?”

“Yeah, not gonna lie—I want to punch a lot of your employees out.” We share a laugh and then Kyle’s expression turns serious. “But it doesn’t happen as often as you think. More than that, I see people sitting up straight when you enter a room; I see their eyes glued to you when you speak. When I hear your name floating around, it’s said with respect.” He smirks. “Sometimes with a bit of fear.” He pushes a strand of hair off my face. “And I see a woman who has I don’t even want to know how much money to burn, busting her ass all day and coming home exhausted at night to the penthouse condo that she’s welcomed her camp friends to live in rent-free, and having conversations about kids with new assistants, and stopping to greet the old security guard at the front desk when everyone else is too busy to look up. Do you know how happy that makes Gus?”