Page 135 of Snatched
“No, it’s not.” His voice is firm now, but tender. “I can’t imagine what it was like to find out, with your ex of all people, that you couldn’t have kids. And then have him blame you.”
His jaw clenches. “Fuck that guy.”
I swallow hard.
“You’re with me now,” he continues, leaning forward, elbows on the table. “And I don’t want you because you’re some baby factory for hypothetical future offspring.” He shakes his head. “I want you because you’re you.Capeesh?”
The phrase hits me in the chest with surprising force.
“You don’t even understand what this means to me,” I whisper.
He smiles and reaches across the table to brush his thumb over my knuckles.
“Then help me understand,” he murmurs. “Let me be someone who gets to show up for you.”
My throat tightens again, but this time it’s for a good reason.
I squeeze his hand back.
We sit in silence for a moment, like the whole city narrowed down to this tiny diner booth.
Then when our food arrives, Colt’s mood lightens instantly. He stares at his plate with reverence, like it’s holy.
“Told you you needed to eat more,” he says smugly, cutting into his pancake stack like a man who earned it.
“Do not try to nutrition-coach me during brunch,” I warn.
“Sorry.” He chews. “Reflex.”
I steal a fry off his second plate.
He gasps dramatically. “You’re stealing from a growing athlete?”
“You’re twenty-seven, not twelve.”
He grins. “Still growing. In all the right places.”
I kick him under the table again.
He traps my ankle again.
“Colt!”
“What?” he says innocently. “You started it.”
We eat, and it’s so laid back, and casual.
At one point, he tries to reenact Kramer sliding into Jerry’s apartment.
The waiter sees him and I want to die.
Colt, on the other hand, is delighted.
But the softness between us never fades.
At the end of the meal, when the bill arrives, he reaches for it without hesitation.
“We’re official,” he says, shrugging. “Boyfriend privilege.”
