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“Yeah. I like it.” I considered her. Where she might live. “You have a yard, right? Plenty of green space?”
“Nothing like this, but we have a nice fenced-in yard,” she replied. “Nellie lives out there most of the year. My dad is going to buy her a swing set for her next birthday.”
“She’ll love that. Mama might find herself swinging back there too.”
Clara huffed and swirled her wine. “If she wants me to, you know I will, but I was always more of a slide girl.”
I could almost picture the two of them spending a sunny day on a playground. Nellie was a pipsqueak, but I could see her convincing Clara to swing with her. It probably wouldn’t be too hard. In the little time I’d spent with them, it was patently clear Nellie was Clara’s world. That was a good look on her, being a mother like that, with the kind of job she had. Pretty fucking impressive, actually.
“Where is she tonight? With your parents?”
“No.” She shook her head. “They would have asked too many questions. Our live-in nanny, Marina, is home with her.”
“What kind of questions would your parents have asked?”
She blew out a puff of air. “They’d want to know where I was going and with whom.”
My brows popped. “Oh yeah? They’re controlling like that?”
“No, not at all. They want me to start dating. If I told them I was going to have dinner with a man on a Friday night, they would get too excited, and I’d have to come up with a way of explaining why this isn’t a date—”
“How would you have done that?”
She sipped her wine, watching me over the rim of the glass. “Thank god I don’t have to come up with an answer. I can’t think of anything that doesn’t involve casual, anonymous sex. My father had a heart attack a few years ago. He can’t take another shock.”
I chuckled at that. “You did the whole marriage and baby thing. They’re not satisfied?”
“Never.” She placed her glass on the table. “Not until they have more grandchildren than their arms can hold. They’ll have to look to my brother for that.”
“No more kids for you?”
“No.” She waved the question away. “Even if I began dating someone now—which is out of the question—by the time we got married and started trying for a baby, I’d be much too old. Nellie’s it for me, and she’s more than enough.”
I narrowed my eyes at her. “You’re going to date for ten years before you get married?”
She sputtered softly. “No. Where did that number come from?”
“I’m trying to figure out how you think you’d be too old to have kids sometime in the next couple years.”
She arched a brow. “Is this you asking me how old I am?”
“Sure. You have me curious.” I couldn’t care less how old she was. I imagined she had a couple years on me, but that didn’t make any sort of difference. Life was life. It came at you no matter your age.
“How old are you?” she countered.
“Thirty,” I replied. “You?”
She shielded her eyes and moaned like I’d told her something tragic. “Thirty? That’s—”
“Old enough,” I stated. “Old enough to own this house. Old enough to run a business. Old enough to take what I want. Old enough to fuck you to sleep. Is that what you were going to say?”
“No,” she croaked. “It’s young. I feel silly sitting here with you.”
Wrapping my fingers around her wrist, I lowered her hand, giving her no choice but to see me.
“The only thing silly here is you saying shit like that to me.”
“I’m thirty-seven, Jake. We’re from two different generations.”
