The Lineup(72)

“You wore me down,” I answer, giving him the half-truth. “Your kind gestures, your apology to me after I lost it on you during the night of the broken enchiladas. You apologized to me when it should have been the other way around. You’ve been patient and kind with my mood swings. You don’t ever complain about my working late, but rather understand the hustle it takes to make something of yourself. Yes, your fun and outgoing attitude might have resembled those other men, but your character, your personality, your heart, they seem to be one of a kind. Plus”—I smile wickedly—“if you ever tried to screw me over, I know Knox would have a word with you.”

“Yeah, he would have more than a word with me. By the way, have you told Emory about this?”

“No.”

“Well, she probably knows.”

“Why?” I ask, staring him down.

“You see, I might have gone to Knox for advice on how to handle you.”

“How to handle me?” I ask, feeling slightly like a piece of meat.

He pacifies me with a pat to my hand. “Before you get in a tizzy, please consider what you just said, how you were hot and cold and weren’t sure if you wanted to date me. I got that sense too, and I needed advice. Knox knows you better than Carson, so I leaned on him. He told me to take things slow and be cautious. Given his advice, I’d assume he told Emory about us.”

“He’s a gossip and thrives off it. Of course, he told Emory, which only means one thing . . . Lindsay and Emory are probably talking about us as well.” Although, their radio silence is totally . . . not them. Hmm.

“Wow, isn’t that special? So many people talking about the beautiful connection we have. Touches your heart, doesn’t it?”

“Is that how this is going to be? Me being negative and you putting your Jason spin on it?”

“Doesn’t have to be. I can be grouchy too, especially when I have to buy toilet paper.”

“What?” I laugh. “Why does that make you grouchy?”

“Because there should be an endless supply coming from my wall. It’s a life necessity and when it’s not available to me, I get upset.”

“I guess that’s valid. Let me know when you run out of toilet paper so I can be positive that day.”

“That’s a fair deal.”





“I have some important questions to ask you,” Jason says while we wait for our dessert. We ordered the molten chocolate lava cake. Jason’s eyes lit up when he saw it on the menu, and I couldn’t help thinking how adorable he was, getting excited over a chocolate dessert. He admitted once we ordered that other than ice cream, chocolate is one of his favorite things to indulge in. Any kind of chocolate. Doesn’t matter how it comes to him, as long as there’s chocolate in it, he’ll eat it.

“Should I be scared?”

“I think you should get ready for quite an inquiry, but they’re necessary questions that must be answered if I want to ask you out on a second date.”

“What if I don’t want to go on a second date?”

“Hmm.” He taps his chin with his fork, ready to dig in the minute the plate arrives at our table. “That’s a good point. All right. If the question arose, would you go on a second date with me?”

“Well, now I feel pressured to say yes just so I can hear the inquiry.”

“You’re going to have to deal with the pressure, sweet cheeks.”

“Fine. Hypothetically, if you were to ask me out on a second date, I would hypothetically, possibly say yes.”

“Great.” He bops his own nose with his fork and then sets it down on the table. “Here goes.” He looks serious; both his hands rest palm down on the table and his shoulders stiffen. Looking me dead in the eyes, he asks, “Bobbies and Rebels are in the World Series, what shirt do you wear?”

“Bobbies obviously.”

He blinks. Sits back. “What?”

“Bobbies for life.”

“But I’m on the Rebels.”

“Yes, but are we dating, are we married? Are we just fooling around? There’s going to have to be a huge commitment on my part in order to put a Rebels shirt on. Sorry.”

“We’re dating.”

“Eh.” I wave my hand.

“Fine. We’re living together.”

“Hmm, I don’t know.” I twist a strand of hair in my finger.

“Christ, we’re married.”

“Ugh.” I wince. “I’m sorry, I just don’t think it will ever happen.”

“Not even if we’re married, for fuck’s sake?” he asks, dumbfounded. It’s endearing, especially since he’s pushing his hand through his hair in distress, tousling it.

“Do we have kids?” I ask.

“Six.”

“Six?” Now it’s time for my eyes to pop out of their sockets. “Do you really think I want to birth six children?”

“Hell, no.” He shakes his head. “We adopted six kids from all around the world. We’re going to have the most diverse and loving family you’ll ever see.”

Adopting six kids, now that’s incredibly sweet. Or mad? No, it’s sweet. In fact, it’s extremely rare to meet a man who not only knows he wants to adopt kids, but is willing to look outside of the US, knowing how much he could offer that child. Good God, this man is a unicorn.