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“Poor choice of words,” she laughs. “But seriously, baby, your massive body is not going to fit in this tub.”
“I love when you use ‘massive’ and ‘huge’ to describe me. You know what else is massive and huge?” I pull my briefs down, my body on full display.
“Yeah, your ego.” Logan chuckles.
“Babe. No. My dick.” I motion towards it.
“As I said, your ego,” she adds, unable to hold in her laughter as her head falls back.
I climb into the tub with her, opposite her body. But as I sit down, the water overflows and spills out onto the tiled bathroom floor below, soaking it. I make myself comfortable, facing her in the warm water and needing to bend my knees just to fit. I put my injured ankle up on the side of the tub to elevate it as I straddle my other leg on the opposite side of her. I grab one of Logan’s feet out from under the water as I begin to rub it with my hands.
“Love you, baby.”
“This is a romantic weekend.” Logan lays her head back on the porcelain tub behind her. “Valentine’s Day, a wedding, a weekend in a snowy cabin.”
“Romantic?” I ask, my head falling back in laughter. “What do you know about romance? Logan, my sweet girl. You’re the least romantic person I know.”
“Offended,” she scoffs with a playful smile on her lips. “I’m romantic,” she states with an unconvincing shrug.
Once again, my head falls back in laughter.
“Logan, you asked me how my day was the first time we had sex. I was literally inside of you. I love you more than anything, but you don’t have a romantic bone in your body.”
“Yeah, because I didn’t want to make some big romantic show while losing my V-card. I was trying to be undramatic.”
“Exactly.” I continue to rub her foot, cute little light pink painted toes in my hands. “You’re my practical girl, and I love you for it. You’re sweet and caring as hell but completely practical. Don’t worry, though, I’ll carry the romance in our relationship.”
“You are romantic.”
“I know. Sometimes too much. Sometimes I romanticize things in my head.”
“Like what?” she asks with furrowed brows.
“I romanticize our future.” I shyly avert my eyes from hers. “I think about it a lot.”
“What kind of things do you think about?”
I think about all of it. I think about Logan at my hockey games, traveling around to different cities to watch me play with my last name across her back. But by then, it’ll be her name too. I think about the house I’m going to buy her and all the dinners I’m going to cook for her inside. I think about the dog we’ll have that will love her more than they love me.
But lately, I mostly think about how our babies would have her pretty green eyes and my unruly hair if only she would just let me make her a mom one day.
“I think about what you’re going to look like on our wedding day,” I tell her truthfully.
“No, you don’t.”
“Actually, I do. I’ve had the image of you in a white dress stuck in my head for a while now.”
“Wait, for real?” She sits up straighter.
“Yes. When you were in California, and I didn’t know if you were coming back to me, that image almost haunted me. Like it might never come true.”
“You’re being serious,” she realizes. “You think about our wedding day?”
“I think about a lot more of our future than just that, but yes.”
“Shit. You are romantic.”
Logan pulls her foot away from my grasp as she makes her way to me, water swirling around. She sits her naked body across my lap as I hold her in my arms, trying my best not to get a hard-on during our sweet conversation.
