But the odds seem so slim.
That’s how I’ve always felt when it came to Oliver and me—we use protection, and so we’re safe. I’m on the pill. We won’t end up pregnant.
“Summer?” Oliver steps closer again and places his hands on my shoulders.
“Sorry. Lost in thought.” I dismiss the idea and focus on the issue at hand. “Actually, come to think of it, Bryn did look a little pale this morning after she came back from Logan’s room.”
“Logan’s room?”
“She said she had to get something from her luggage . . .” But the bride wasn’t supposed to see the groom before the wedding. What if that wasn’t where she went at all? What if she was worried that the walls of her hotel room would be an ineffective barrier when it came to hiding her morning sickness from her two best friends?
“Wow! I mean, that’s amazing news. I can’t wait to congratulate them,” I finally say, and I mean it. I’m thrilled that a baby is in the cards for these two people who are simply head over heels for each other, and who already ace the parenting game.
Oliver nods. “Logan’s an amazing dad, and Bryn is great with Amelia. They’ll be perfect.”
“They really will.” I grin. “Oh, I am going to buy the cutest little onesies for their bub! And socks. Baby socks are so sweet!”
“Baby socks?” Oliver laughs. “I did not know of your penchant for small footwear.”
“Well, let me tell you that baby socks are some of the teensiest, tiniest, cutest clothing items known to man.” I nod, then pause. “But I guess this means they won’t be coming to Costa Rica with us in the summer.”
Oliver frowns. “No. Probably not.”
Down the hall, a door swings open. A couple walks toward us, his arm tight around her waist. They can’t seem to tear their eyes off each other, and clearly she hasn’t bothered to hide the just-fucked hair on her man—he’s wearing it loud and proud, like he wants to proclaim their recent rendezvous to the world.
“They look like us,” Oliver whispers in my ear as the elevator dings and they step inside.
“They do. I’m sure we’ve looked like that on so many of our vacations,” I say, but my mind is a whir, like the reels on a slot machine. “Can we talk seriously for a moment?”
Oliver glances up and down the now empty hall. “Here?”
I grab his hand, lead him to our room, and pull my key card from my pocket—because what could improve a hot AF dress more than pockets?—and slide it over the keypad.
Oliver slips in beside me, and we walk out to the balcony, where the fresh sea air washes over me like a balm—always moving and free.
“Are you okay?” He presses a hand to the bare skin above the low back of my dress.
“Yes.” I turn to face him. “Look, Logan and Bryn getting pregnant has me thinking.”
“Oh.” He nods, and I rush to shake my head before he gets the wrong idea.
“I know we’ve spoken before about having babies, and we said we didn’t want them just now.” I take a deep breath. Here goes nothing. “But I don’t think I want them . . . ever.”
I search Oliver’s face for some sign—some indication that this is either the best or worst news he’s heard all morning.
He’s blank as a stone.
I take a deep breath and continue. “I just . . . I love our life. I love our dates and our time together and our vacations. I love you, and you and me—”
“And our impromptu midday sex?” A twinkle sparks in his eyes.
“I absolutely love our impromptu midday sex,” I agree. “And I love children. I adore Amelia, and I’m sure I’ll love playing Auntie Summer to Logan and Bryn’s new little one whenever he or she comes along too. But as long as you’re on the same page as me, I would be completely okay with not having children for the rest of our lives.”
Oliver grins. “I would be more than okay with that.” He places a hand under my chin, tilting my face up until just a whisper and a kiss separate our lips. “I have everything I need with you.” He kisses my lips, his leg wedged between mine, our arms wrapped around each other, and it feels so right. I love this—I love us. And I definitely don’t feel the need to add a child to an already perfect cocktail of life.
Oliver’s phone vibrates against my thigh. I groan against his mouth.
“It can’t be that important.” He kisses me again, but when the vibrating continues, I pull back.
He fishes the cell from his pocket. “It’s Logan. I should probably go.”
“Same.” I peer at the wall as if I can see right through to Bryn’s room a few doors down. “It’s nearly ceremony time.”
