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“Oh…at least two. So they can be friends. Like you and August.”

Wynnter scoffs. “We’re hardly friends.”

“You know what I mean.” I glance at him. “Do you…want children, too? I know you mentioned babies the other day, but…was that genuine or just teasing me?”

“It was genuine.” Warmth settles in his eyes. “I’d like at least two, too.”

I flutter. “Children are a big responsibility.”

“So they say. But I’m up for the challenge if you are.”

Biting my lip, I watch him scoop more mashed potatoes, then I hedge, “You mean…you want…them…with me?”

He pauses, and the potatoes fall off the piece of chicken to plop back in the cup. “With who else would I have kids, Dece?”

My heart thumps, and I fix my attention solidly on my food. “Right. Sorry. I just…still can’t believe this is happening.”

“Maybe I haven’t been clear enough.” He hums. “Dece?”

A shiver works its way down my back, niggling beneath my sweater and overalls. “Yes, Wynn?”

“Wanna be my wife?”

My heart soars. “Aren’t you skipping a few steps?”

“Nah.”

“Just jumping right to wife with intention, then?”

“Yeah. Man, I really haven’t been—” He cusses. “—clear at all if you’re asking stuff like that.”

I giggle.

“So?”

“Yes, Wynn. I do.”

He smiles. “So you’re my fiancée now? Or would you like to go ring shopping first?”

“Rings are inconvenient. I’d rather get tattoos.”

Wynnter blinks at me. “Tattoos,” he echoes. “Wedding band tattoos?”

“Yes, please.”

His gaze drops to my hand, and he wets his lips as he pours his energy back into his food. Steadily, his face reddens.

“What?” I ask.

His head shakes. “Nothing. That’s just…” He breathes. “So—” He swears. “—beautiful.” Scrubbing his scruffy, freckled cheek with his shoulder, he murmurs, “You’re sure you can handle it? It’s a pretty painful spot.”

“I’ll be okay. I’d like to get a little snowflake design, something wintery.”

“Or Christmas? Maybe some mistletoe leaves?”

Warmth settles into my belly. “Yes, I love that.”

He exhales a breath and murmurs a curse. “December Winslow.”