I scan the list, my gaze catching on one particular entry at the bottom in bold crayon. “I’m sure he can try, but the last one might be tricky.”
“Why? You’re here.”
“What’s the last one?” Dylan inquires, peering over my shoulder.
“I asked Santa to send you a wife, Dad. He sent Poppy. You need a wife.”
My face flames at the little girl’s assumption, and I blurt out the first thing that pops into my brain. “He doesn’t believe in marriage.”
Funny thing, Dylan has his own response, spoken in stereo with my own. “She doesn’t believe in marriage.”
Our gazes meet, widening at the other’s admission.
“What?” we question each other, again in stereo. Much more of this and we’ll have to start a harmonizing group.
“I know you’re a free spirit, Poppy. Even if you believe in monogamous relationships, you’ve never wanted marriage or kids. I keep telling Marissa that, but she keeps asking me, regardless.” Dylan takes the list, handing it back to Marissa.
“I’m glad she does. Maybe one time you’ll give the correct answer.”
Dylan crosses his arms over his chest, his expression curious. “What are you saying?”
Here goes nothing. I’m nothing if not honest, even if I’m assured it will send Dylan scrambling for cover. “I’d love to get married. Have a gaggle of kids.”
His eyes widen, but he hasn’t fled. Yet. “A gaggle?”
“Yeah. Six.”
“You want six kids?”
“At least four,” I reply with a shrug. “People change, Dylan. I was young. Selfish.” I pat his chest, offering what little measure of comfort I can after that announcement. “Don’t worry. I’m well versed in your rules. I’m not expecting either of them from you. I would, however, like some food.”
I duck into the back, grabbing a stone cat that arrived today. It’s carved from orange calcite and bears a striking resemblance to Mr. Whiskers. Returning to the front, I hand Marissa the cat, earning a squeal of excitement and a hug about the waist. “Are we ready?”
Dylan nods, but I can tell he’s distracted. “I ordered pizza. We just have to stop and grab it.”
“I love pizza. Thank you.” I’m determined to steer our conversation to safe waters.
Come on, universe, I only got to sleep with him one night. At least grant me a few more rounds before you send him scuttling back to his waiting throng of fans.
The drive back is filled with Marissa’s chatter, as she invents stories about Mr. Whiskers and his adventures. I swear, I need to write them down and capture this child’s imagination in a book. As we pull into the garage, Marissa scrambles from the car, eager to reunite Paddington with his fur buddy.
I walk to the back of the Jeep, grabbing out the pizzas before Dylan has a chance. “Thanks for dinner.”
“Sure.”
He stops and I feel my stomach flip. Uh-oh. I know what’s coming—a reiteration of his rules. Game face on.
“Everything okay?”
“Six kids, huh? That’s a lot of sex.”
Diving right in, I see. “It would be. Hence, why I plan to adopt.”
“Or,” Dylan grabs the pizzas from my hands, “you could just adopt one. Have the others the old-fashioned way.”
“I’d be pregnant all the time.”
“True, but it would be fun as hell creating them.”
I feel like I’m circling a lava pit, uncertain which step might drop me into unfathomable heat. I don’t want to push too hard. But he started it. “Hard part is finding the man to give them to me. Hell, I’ll be happy with just one. Even that will probably not happen the old-fashioned way. Not at this point.”
Dylan pauses, balancing the pizza boxes on his hip. “Don’t settle Poppy. Never settle. You deserve a man who will give you everything.”
He captures my mouth in a quick kiss before following his daughter inside, leaving me gaping after him. Now what the hell does that mean? He’s the man? He’s not the man, but I shouldn’t settle?
I stroll into the kitchen, helping to grab some place settings. “Where’s your Grandma?”
“I’ll go get her,” Marissa states, running off toward her grandmother’s apartment.
“Thanks for dinner,” I repeat, trying to maintain neutral topics.
“Of course. You have to eat. We all do.”
Estelle strolls into the kitchen, being pulled by Marissa, and offers me a quick hug before we all settle down to dinner.
I’m not a woman who lives on lettuce, so after two slices, I’m feeling fat and happy. “I’m stuffed. That was some delicious pizza.”
Dylan chuckles. “The owner is from New York. He brought his recipes with him.”
“New York has amazing pizza,” I concur, helping Estelle clear the table. “Thank you so much.”
“I think four thank you’s is sufficient, Sunshine. Marissa, why don’t you show Poppy what we made for dessert?”
“Dessert? I can’t eat another—” my voice halts as Marissa offers me a black and white cookie. To some, it’s just a cookie. To me, it’s heaven on a plate. Covered in icing. “There’s a bakery around here that sells these?”
“No, we made them. But I tried one and they’re actually really good.”
I take a bite, releasing a groan of happiness. “They’re delectable. I love these cookies,” I smile at Marissa, offering her a bite.
“I know. Daddy told me.”
“I can’t believe he remembered.”
“He remembers everything about you. We have to make you want to stay.”
My heart catches at her earnest expression. “I’ll have to go home, eventually.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Where would I sleep?”
“With my Dad. Like last night.”
My eyes bulge at her straightforward declaration. My gaze volleys between Dylan and Estelle, both holding back their laughter. Bastards. Neither one is going to help me out here. “She’s a miniature version of you.”
I walk to the sink, my face flaming. Dylan walks behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. “Yep. She’s my carbon copy. Just wait, when we have one, he’ll be an equal mix of us. The stubbornness will be legendary.”
I focus on the dishes in the sink, willing my heart rate to normal, but after his words, it’s pounding like a locomotive. “Well, if he’s stubborn, it will be because of you.”
Dylan presses a kiss to my ear, his beard tickling my skin. “I’m glad you didn’t say no.”
I turn to respond, but Dylan steps away, winking at me as he swings Marissa into his arms.
All I can do is turn back around and try not to read into his statement. But wow, it certainly awakened every cell in my heart.
Chapter 14
Dylan
My mother trails me to Marissa’s room, no doubt eager to pick my brain about my blossoming romance with Poppy.
“I really like her, Dylan. She’s good for you two.”
I chuckle, helping Marissa change into her pajamas. “I know, Mom. She’s great for us, and Marissa seems to like her.”