Sing

CHAPTER 28.

MONICA

Sona and the staff had cleared out. Darren hugged and congratulated me, fist-bumped Jonathan, promising him a wild night of beer-slinging and bar-hopping in Silver Lake. He kissed me on the cheek and left, promising he’d call.

Irene had warned me clearly, while ignoring Jonathan, that there was to be nothing going on behind the closed door that might bring a heart rate up. But, just in case I didn’t know, he was being monitored from the nurse’s station. So no quote, funny business, unquote.

We laughed when the door closed. I wanted to lie on top of him, press my thighs to his, and tuck my head into the crook of his neck, but that was impossible. I leaned over, sitting in the adjacent chair, and kissed his cheek.

“Do you regret it?” I said.

“I feel relieved.”

“I’m glad.”

“I wish I could give you a wedding night. Throw you over my shoulder, dress and all, and carry you over the threshold. We wouldn’t even make it up the stairs.”

I made a satisfied purr. “I can just imagine it. Who’s house?

“Our house.”

“Is there a porch?”

“More than one, and I’ll have you on all of them, regularly. Breakfast in the back. Lunch on the side, and after dinner, we’ll drink wine on the front porch and I’ll make love to you in the night air.”

“Can I still call you sir?”

“I expect no less.”

“Thank you, sir.” I kissed his hand, letting my lips linger on his skin.

“And here we are,” he said, “married, and we never even talked about children.”

“Can we pretend we had them?”

“Four,” he said with a slight smile.

“Don’t be greedy.”

“Three. Can we settle on three?”

I should have agreed to ten children, because there were going to be exactly none. There was going to be no house, no porches, no family.

“Can I admit something to you, my beautiful wife?”

“Yes.”

“I’m scared.”

I squeezed his hand and laid my head next to him. That was when the machine’s beeping was replaced with a high, constant whine.