Problematic Summer Romance (Not in Love, #2)(95)

I lean forward. Spot the twentysomething idling under one of the umbrellas, a bored look as he waits for the lunch crowd to swarm the restaurant. With a small smile, I twine my fingers with Conor’s. Lift his palm to my lips. Press a kiss to the middle of it. A gentle scrape of my teeth.

“I think he just figured out that we’re not related,” I murmur.

Conor shakes his head, that smile still tugging at his lips, his voice raspy as he starts again. “My point is, we do have to acknowledge that I’m older, have more life experience, and have more financial means.”

I glance down at myself. “Just because there’s sand on my romper and I spilled granita all over it, it doesn’t mean that I don’t have my very own exchange-traded fund.”

“Right, yes.” He’s grinning again. So open, I just…My heart, it’s going to stretch to the sky. He looks at the sleep-deprived mess of me, shakes his head, and says, “Granita spillage notwithstanding, you’re still a bit too beautiful for my taste.”

“I just want to reassure you, in case your worry is that you’d be saddling yourself with the burden of someone who’s younger and poor, that I do have a job lined up, and I’ve been financially independent for several years, and—”

“Maya, it’s the exact opposite. I want to take care of you. I want to throw money at your problems and solve them for you, which is why I need to be very careful not to overwhelm you—”

“Which is why you’re stopping yourself from proposing, yeah.” I take back my hand, pretending to be annoyed. “I guess we’ll be waiting to get started on those babies, hmm?”

He freezes. Flushes. Glances away. “Maya, I don’t—”

“Plan to get me pregnant?”

He closes his eyes, mortified. “That was bad of me to say without first discussing it with you. It was…”

“Problematic.”

“Yes. Maya, I would never ask you to have a baby if you weren’t ready. I would never ask you to keep a baby you didn’t want—”

“Conor, relax. You can be a fan of reproductive rights and think that coming inside me is hot.”

He covers his eyes. “Christ.”

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Lots of people have a breeding kink.”

“Fucking—I don’t.”

“Oh, Conor. Yes, you do.”

“Such a fucking menace,” he grumbles. Red-cheeked. Adorable.

“It’s fine. I’m into weird stuff, too.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Like what?”

“I believe it’s called gerontophilia?”

“Fuck off, Maya.”

I try to keep my laughter down, but it’s not working. The waiter turns to us, a confused smile as he watches Conor rub his eyes. Me, cracking up.

“Just to clear the air,” I whisper, leaning closer, “I’m not really a gerontophile. You’re the only older person I want to have sex with.”

“Yeah? Good.” His cheeks are still pink. “I also haven’t fantasized about getting other women pregnant.”

“Really?” He shakes his head. “Never?”

“Never.”

“Did you and Minami not…?”

“No. We were younger when we were together—even though…” He snorts. “Still older than you are right now? But she had a pregnancy scare once.”

“And?”

“It turned out that she was just late. Constantly overworked and stressed out by our supervisor. But it got us thinking about families, and we talked about it. I realized that I didn’t think I wanted kids.”

“But…now you do?” I try to wrap my head around it. “Do you think you just weren’t ready?”

“Maybe. Or maybe it’s just that when I think about doing something with you, it feels like an adventure. Climbing a mountain, having a family, moving to another country…I don’t do well with change, Maya. I like to control my environment and limit the unknown. But I woke up a couple of years ago and realized that you’d completely flipped that for me.”

“Why?”

“Because no matter what, or where, or when, you would make it spectacular. Whatever situation, you’d make it worth living. I’d get up and you’d be there, looking beautiful and saying the most annoying things and driving me nuts and making me laugh. And I would love every second of it. Because it’s with you. And you are…” The way his lips curl is internal. Like he’s sorting out the thoughts in his head. “You’re trouble. A constant stream of trouble.”

It’s my turn to lower my eyes. To take a deep breath. “You know, Eli came to see me last night. Before we…Before. He told me to go easy on you.”

Conor sighs. Amused. Unbothered.

“Do you feel…Now that he finally knows, do you feel safer? Like that guardrail is finally in place?”

“No. I don’t. I never…It was a stupid idea, that the people around me could protect me from my feelings. But in my defense, for a while there, I didn’t think I was in love.” My eyebrow must arch, because he continues: “It was too all-consuming. Too gut-wrenching. And I thought—I thought, ‘I’ve been in love before. This is not what that felt like.’