Page 121 of The Reason I Married Him
“Uh, what are you doing?” I ask him.
“People are watching, Aubree. Do you really think your ever-charming and handsome boyfriend would let his beautiful and grumpy girlfriend watch two freaky, knee-high sock-wearing twins all by herself without the protection of his arm wrapped around her?”
“I’m assuming the answer is no?”
“You are correct. Now, in a few minutes, you’re going to need to slip your hand under the cover of the blanket right to my crotch where you’re going to make a motion that looks a lot like?—”
“Oh my God, you can’t be serious.”
He lets out a roar of a laugh so loud that the car next to us tells us to be quiet. He waves an apology toward them and still chuckles near my ear. “No, I’m not serious, but fuck, that reaction was priceless.”
“Glad I could entertain.”
“You know, though, it might not hurt for you to sit on my lap and make out with me. I know I’m not mac and cheese, but if you can see past that, it might help our image.”
“You think making out while watchingThe Shining, one of the creepiest movies ever made, is going to help our image? It’sgoing to make us look like deranged psychopaths who get off on things like murder and creepy twins.”
“Umm . . . don’t you?” he asks with mirth in his voice.
“No,” I say sternly.
He chuckles. “So then what do you think the collective opinion is of the red car over there to the right that is suspiciously rocking back and forth?”
I lift to take a look at the car in question and notice the steamed-up windows and the rocking. “Um, two horny people who apparently can’t have sex in their home, so they’ve chosen a public place to do so.”
“Do you have anything against public sexcapades?”
“No,” I say as I lean back against his arm. “But I have something against the fact that they kept the speaker in their car. That means they’re having sex while listening to the twins calling after Danny.”
“Hmm,” Wyatt says, thinking about it. “Not sure that would be the soundtrack I’d want while wielding a massive erection.”
“Was massive needed in that sentence?” I ask.
“Of course,” he replies. “You see, Aubree, by using adjectives, we’re able to portray?—”
“Skip the English lesson, please. I know why adjectives exist. I just didn’t think it was needed at that moment.”
“Why?” I can already hear the smile in his voice before he speaks his next words. “Does it make you wonder if my erection is massive?”
“You are so predictable,” I say. “I knew you were going to make some sort of sexual innuendo. You seriously have a problem.”
“Uh, no, I’m a guy. That’s what we do. We think about sex all the time. Hell, I looked at a mailbox this morning and thought about sex.”
“How on earth did a mailbox make you think about sex?” I ask, ignoring the movie in front of us.
“Do you really want the rabbit trail?”
“I do,” I say.
“Okay, you brought this on yourself.” He takes a deep breath. “I was driving around this morning, not going to tell you what exactly I was doing because that is a surprise—and yes, I know you hate surprises, but you will find out soon—anyway, I drove by this house with a mallard mailbox.”
“Oh my God, please don’t tell me you found sexual desire from a mallard duck?”
“Aubree,” he says in a tone that says he’s trying to be serious, but I can hear the underlying mirth. “Is your opinion of me that low that you would think I’d get off on the thought of a luscious feathery animal?”
“I don’t know . . . maybe?”
“That’s insulting. Animals don’t do it for me, thanks. But . . . the feathers did remind me of a feather-down pillow.”
