Page 87 of After Midnight

“Oh.” He lets out a breath, and his body softens, some of the tension uncoiling from his muscles. Then he says, “You probably should’ve told me that before.”

I smile. “I like watching you squirm.”

His dimples appear. “You like scaring the shit out of me, huh?”

Nodding, I lean in and steal another kiss. Then I realize how wet and sticky we both are, and I say, “Can we shower now?”

Seb carries me through the house—even though I’m perfectly capable of walking—and when we get to the bathroom, he slides the lights on to a dim setting, so it’s not startlingly bright, then settles my bare feet onto the cool tile floor.

It’s a large bathroom, with double sinks, a huge clawfoot tub, and a walk-in stone shower with dual rain shower heads. I wait while Seb gets the shower going, adjusting the temp. Glancing into the mirror, I find my hair tangled, my lips swollen, and my eyes sleepy and content. And even though this isn’t my condo—even though this isn’t even my state—I find myself feeling completely comfortable, perfectly at ease while Seb gets the water temp just right. And it’s odd, but in a way that feels . . . good.

“It’s ready,” he says, calling my attention back to him, then stepping aside so I can walk into the shower first.

The hot water hits the stone floor and walls, sending up a mineral scent with the steam. I step under one of the rain shower heads and sigh as the water washes the long day away. Seb joins me in the shower, using his own shower head. But halfway through washing my hair, I give him a smile and move over to stand with him.

“I was lonely over there,” I say, sliding my hands up his bare chest and then lifting onto my toes to press a kiss to his mouth. He kisses me back, his hands finding my waist, and smiles against my lips.

“Here,” he says after breaking our kiss, maneuvering me so my head is right under the water stream. Gently, he glides his fingers through my hair, and my eyes close as he works all the shampoo from my scalp.

He spoils me so much. Way more than I’d ever expect, or even ask for. Which reminds me of what he said when he told me about the extra rooms in his house, about how he’d spoil his children rotten.

“Seb,” I say softly, opening my eyes to stare at the steamy shower wall.

He’s still behind me, working conditioner into my hair now. “Yeah?”

A question has been resting at the back of my mind since the tour he gave me yesterday, and now feels like as good a time as ever to ask it.

“Do you want to have children?”

His hands go still for a moment, then resume their gentle movements a beat later.

“I think so. I mean, I’d be okay not having them too, but . . . I’d like to be a dad.” It feels like he’s done with the conditioner now, and as I stand facing away from him, he grabs a bar of soap and starts working it in circles across my shoulders, then my low back. After a minute has passed, he asks, “What about you?”

I don’t answer right away. It’s a question I’ve considered, but only distantly. I’ve never been with a man who had any sort of long-term potential. I’ve never even asked a partner about their desires for children before. But Seb makes everything feel different. He makes a life together feel possible. And that makes the question a more serious one.

Suddenly, I find mist gathering in my eyes, and I’m grateful for the water running over my head; it hides the tears that slip out to track down my cheeks. No man has ever made me cry this much, and certainly not for all the right reasons.

“Yeah,” I say softly. “Not yet. I’ve got a lot I still want to do. But I’d like to be a mom.”

Seb makes a small sound behind me, a thoughtful hum. He moves to my side and starts washing my arm, from shoulder all the way to fingertips. “What do you still want to do?”

I turn his question over in my mind as he gently massages soap into the delicate part of my wrist, then between my fingers. “I want to pay off Riley’s tuition, mostly. Then I want to just . . . be, you know? No heavy burdens, just letting life take me where it wants to. And after that, maybe then I’ll be ready for kids.” I flick my gaze up to his and find him watching me intently, his brown eyes narrowed, gaze focused on my face. “I’d want to be stable.” Then, with a small smile, I add, “I’d want to be able to spoil mine too, just like you.”

This makes him smile. It’s a slow change in his expression, like the way the sun rises gently over the distant horizon. Then he’s pulling me in, kissing me, and my eyes close as the water rains down over both of us, our wet bodies pressed together.

Pulling away, he rests his forehead to mine and whispers, “I think you’d be a great mom, Rem. The best.”

I let out a small scoff. “Definitely not the best. But I think I could do a decent job.” My hands trail up his chest, and I thread my fingers around the back of his neck, holding him there with me. “But you’d be the world’s best dad for sure.”

He laughs. “My kids would have drum kits and surfboards and probably eat way too much pizza. They’d be the neighborhood terrors.” He puts the soap down, then returns his hands to my waist. “But we’d be happy, and I think that’s the most important thing.”

I look up at him through the shower steam and falling water, admire the way droplets catch on his dark lashes, and I think, I know that’s true, Seb. Because you make me happy.

Grateful once again that the water hides my tears, I wrap my arms around Seb’s neck and hug him tight. His arms loop around my waist, secure and strong, and I wish I could stay here forever and not just for the next few days.

Because more and more, Seb is feeling like someone I don’t just want in my life now.

He feels like someone I’ll want in it tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that.