Page 63 of Good Directions

“You know damn well I do,” he says. I eye him suspiciously. Because to be fair, he’s made it no secret that he’s attracted to me this last week. But he’s also never specifically said anything about my butt. “More importantly, I would like to hear about that last statement.”

I plop back down on the couch, closer to him this time, one leg curled up under me and one draped down the side, and sigh. Confiding in Anton may feel natural, but that doesn’t make it easy.

“I seem to find myself telling you things that I don’t tell people,” I admit, letting out a little wry laugh. Anton sits up, reaching out and taking my hand. Squeezing it, he smiles, sending me the confidence I need to continue. “I don’t have this desire to be a mom. It’s not that I don’t like kids. I mean, not any more than I don’t like other people. But, I dunno. I basically raised my brothers. I’ve played that game and didn’t like it. I want to be able to focus on my career, and I guess that sounds selfish, but I feel like it’s probably more selfish to have kids just because I’m ‘supposed to,’ rather than because I really want them.”

“I feel the same way.”

Huh?

Now it’s my turn to be confused. I look at him, my head tilted slightly, and I realize I’m probably looking at him like a dog listens to a high-pitched noise. But I do not follow.

“It’s absolutely way more selfish to have kids just because you’re supposed to, rather than because you really want them,” he says.

Oh, that. Yes. Well, at least he understands what I’m getting at.

“One of the biggest reasons I don’t want them.”

HOLD THE FUCKING PHONE…

Anton chuckles, tugging on my hand gently. The soft pull is more than enough to pull me into him, my body going willingly, even if my mind is too stunned to react.

His warmth surrounds me, shocking me back to life. Anton doesn’t want kids either. At least that’s what I think he just admitted to me. I lock my eyes on his, searching those glacial blues for any hint that he’s fucking with me—that he’s trying to push a button or get a rise out of me. That he’s doing what he’s admitted he does best. Except, it’s not there. All I see is the same earnest honesty that was there last week in the greenhouse when he told me that his wanting me wasn’t about sex.

The moment that I knew that I was really willing to give this a chance. An actual chance. One where I faced my fear.

“What are your other reasons?” I ask, settling into him.

He shrugs. “I just don’t want to?” His voice lifts, like he’s asking a question, even though I know he’s not. “Like you, I guess I’ve never felt the draw. I’m from a big family, and I have six siblings who all want families of their own. Part of the reason I give Hux so much shit about him and Dolly is because I know that he’s been secretly fantasizing about building her a little white house and raising babies with her for years. There isn’t a single part of me that sees myself doing that. Despite what everyone thinks, that’s why I don’t date. Because after a while, women start to want to talk about future plans, and I can’t be what they want. My future revolves around the three Ps.”

“Peaches, peanuts, and pecans,” I recite.

“Exactly. Not what girls get excited about.”

“Some girls do.”

Anton scoffs. “Sawyer Brown…did you just…”

“Don’t get used to it.”

Anton’s hands slide up under my tank top, his fingers dancing across my skin, tickling me. I squeal, wiggling in his arms, trying to get away, but he holds on tighter, continuing to tickle me.

“My plan was to put on a scary movie so I had an excuse to hold you, but now it seems like I don’t need that.”

I chuckle, feeling brave, so I lean in to steal a kiss. Anton’s hand slides to the back of my neck, holding me against his lips, his taste lingering for a long moment as his tongue sweeps against mine. Fuck me, this man is a drug.

“If you’d put on a scary movie, you would have been staying up all night with me since I wouldn’t have been able to sleep,” I tell him.

“Noted. We’ll save that for some other time then.” He winks. “What is your favorite movie?”

“Promise not to laugh?”

“Have I laughed yet?”

I shift in his lap, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. He hasn’t, but that doesn’t mean this won’t be the thing that tips him over the edge.

“The Muppet Movie.”

“As in…the one from the seventies with Kermit and Fozzie in the old car on the road trip?”