![]() ![]() “True,” I say, “but do you know what I believe?” I nod to her and then turn back to Ryke with a growing smile. Rose taps her watch like we’re going to be late. Before I can reply, the Escalade’s windows roll down. I think through all of his support and encouragement, Ryke is more worried about this unknown. “You can’t do fucking cartwheels, Calloway.” “You know what you’re giving up?” he asks. I’ve regained enough in the past couple of years with Ryke that I’m ready to move forward with him. My life has always been set on fast-forward, and while it seems idyllic to go backwards and experience a childhood I missed-I can’t have that entirely. “I know what I want.” These are magic words. And if you need to wait fucking longer, I’ll be happy with that too. I would’ve been okay to have kids at twenty-five. He’s said this before: I could have kids tomorrow. You’re only twenty, and I’d fucking understand if you want to wait-” “Because,” he says, “I’m going to be twenty-seven. Each time we came to the same conclusion. ![]() We’ve had two serious conversations in the past month about having babies. When I do say those words, blood rushes to every one of my limbs, as though reminding me of life. “I want to marry you.” Have I acted differently to where he’d think otherwise? “I love you,” I remind him, knowing I don’t say it as often as him. ![]()
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