Page 133 of The Warmth of Our Closest Star

So, relaxed and satisfied, I felt as though I could fall asleep with the doorhandle digging into my back and the hard glass of the window against the back of my head. The sound of the rain and Peter’s expert hands working on my feet chased away thoughts of anything important. It struck me at that moment how perfect our life together had become. We were happily married, financially secure, loved our home, loved each other, we had plenty of food—the world was a crazy place, but we had carved out a little piece of sanity and security for ourselves.

Privileged for sure, but we weren’t going to disrespect that by pretending we were sorry for it.

“I never knew life could be this good,” Peter said, clearly reading my thoughts.

I responded with a chuckle.

“Are you happy, Enzo?” he asked.

“I am,” I said as my eyes lazily shut. “I’m very happy.”

“Can I tell you something?”

“Of course.”

“I never wanted a family of my own,” he said quietly, “because I never thought I’d meet someone I’d want a family with.”

I laughed.

“I never thought I’d meet a guy I’d actually want to marry,” he continued. “But then here you come and just shit all over my assumptions.”

“I do what I can,” I said. “I live to serve.”

Peter tickled my feet, and I kicked softly, actually giggling. When we settled down, he went back to rubbing my feet, but not as attentively as before.

“What do you say?” he asked.

“About what?”

My eyes were closed again and I was enjoying the sound of the rain as it assaulted the car.

“Starting a family finally,” he said. “You always wanted a family of your own. I…I think I’m ready, babe.”

Peter’s sudden decision to bring up starting a family—seemingly out of the blue—had me sitting up, my eyes opening as I slid my feet out of his lap. Picking up on the sudden change in my mood, for how could he not, Peter winced. We’d just had sex in the back of our car down a country road and were relaxing and enjoying the rain. The last thing I’d thought would happen was that we’d bring up one of the last bones of contention in our relationship.

For years, I’d repressed the life goal of having my own family. A husband, kids, a boisterous, happy home with homework and family meals at the table and big holidays and fights and making up and warmth and love and…everything. I had pushed that desire down for so long that I’d forgotten it had once been my greatest desire.

Now, sitting across from Peter in the backseat of our car, I didn’t know what I wanted.

“Well?” Peter asked nervously.

“Well…what?” I asked.

He frowned at me.

“Why now, Peter?” I asked with a sigh.

“What do you mean, ‘why now?’” he grumbled. “Is there a better time? I’m going to turn fifty before too long. Do you want to wait until I’m sixty? And you’re forty?”

I rolled my eyes. “Are we going to fight now?”

“I’m not trying to fight,” he said, though his tone didn’t match his words. “But why are you upset that I brought it up?”

“I’m not upset.”

“You look upset.”

“Well, I’m not.”