His brows pull together then he asks, “What?”

“You keep talking about your kids. Are you pregnant?” I ask, and his lips twitch.

“No, but you could be.”

“I’m not.” I shake my head in denial. “You know I had my period.”

“That was last month,” he mutters.

“Okay, there is a slim chance monthly that I could become pregnant, but if you’re doing all of this on the thought of me being pregnant right now, please don’t. Take your time and think about this, and if in the end you want to move, I’ll go with you.”

“This isn’t something I just came up with. It’s something I’ve been thinking about for a few months now.”

“We weren’t even together a few months ago.”

“You weren’t in my bed, but there wasn’t a time I didn’t think of you as mine. I was just waiting for you to catch up.”

Feeling my heart grow warm, I lean forward and rest my mouth against his then whisper, “What am I going to do with you?” as tears fill my eyes.

“We’ll have a whole lifetime to figure it out.” He kisses me softly then tucks my face into his neck. I couldn’t fathom this moment a few months ago. I had no idea this kind of relationship, this kind of love, was even possible, but having it now, I know I will do everything within my power to make sure I always have it.

“How do you feel about staying in bed and watching movies today?” I ask quietly, and his body relaxes under mine.

“Is that what you want?” he questions as his hand pauses on my back where it had been moving in soothing strokes.

“Yeah,” I lie. I know he needs a break from everything, and if me staying home so he will stay home gives that break to him, then that’s what I’m going to do.

“Go change and I’ll meet you back here.”

“Okay.” I nod then lean up, pressing my mouth to his jaw before sliding out of bed and going to the closet. When I come back from hanging up the clothes I had on and have changed into one of my old tanks and a pair of baggy pajama bottoms, I find Sven in a pair of basketball shorts with a stack of movies in his hands, heading across the room to the TV. “Do you want anything from the kitchen?”

“A beer.”

Nodding, I head downstairs, grabbing a beer for him and glass of lemonade for myself, along with a bag of Pirate’s Booty to munch on. When I get back up to the bedroom, the curtains are drawn and the room is mostly dark except for the light coming from the TV. Sven is in the bed with his back to the headboard, his chest bare and his ankles crossed, with the remote resting on his abs.

“I called the club. Everything’s okay,” he tells me as his eyes meet mine.

“Did everyone show up tonight?”

“Everyone except you and me.”

“That’s good. You should probably give Zack a bonus for all the extra work he’s been doing,” I tell him as I put my knees in the bed.

“He gets compensated,” he mutters then asks, “Have you seen The Walking Dead?” as I hand him his beer and crawl toward him on my knees, settling myself close to his side.

“No, what is it?”

“A show on TV. I got the DVDs a few months back but haven’t had time to watch them. I figured we could start now.”

“Sure.” I shrug as he wraps his arm around my shoulders and tucks me closer to him.

Five hours later, my eyes are glued to the TV and my brain is in some kind of trance as the episode we were just watching comes to an end.

“Jesus,” Sven mutters, and I turn to look at him.

“I know,” I whisper, even though I’m not sure if that’s a good ‘Jesus’ or a bad one. “This show is awesome. I mean, I feel bad for Rick, obviously, but wow. He’s a total badass.”

“Badass?” he asks with a smirk. “Isn’t that a bad word?”

“No.” I scrunch up my face and roll my eyes.

“God, you’re cute,” he mutters, searching my face, then asks, “You ready for the next episode?”

Looking at the TV then back to him, I inquire, “How many episodes are there?”

“Not sure. I think I have about four DVDs, and each has about 8 episodes.

“You know, you may get your wish.”

“What?” He chuckles, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear.

“I won’t be able to do anything until I’ve seen every episode—no work, no eating, no shower…nothing. This show is rendering me useless.”

“I’m sure I can find a way to take your mind off of it.” He smiles.

“I don’t know. Rick is growing on me.”

His eyes go funny, and next thing I know, my back is to the bed and he’s looming over me, and then his mouth is on mine.

Then his mouth is on another—better—place, proving he can definitely take my mind off the show.

Looking over at Sven and seeing he’s asleep, I reach over him, grab the remote for the TV, push pause, and then roll quietly out of bed and head downstairs. We haven’t eaten anything since breakfast, and I don’t think Pirate Booty or each other can be considered a meal. I’m hungry, and I know Sven will be too when he wakes up.

Heading into the kitchen, I open the fridge and scan the contents. There are two large steaks on one of the shelves, along with two giant mushrooms on another. I have never cooked a steak before, but for Sven, I’ll at least try. Going out the back door off the kitchen, I attempt to light the barbeque. After three failed attempts, I try once more then do a little clap when I see the bars along the bottom light up.

Going back inside, I find a pair of new yellow gloves under the sink, the kind of gloves you use to wash dishes in, so I put them on, go back to the fridge, grab the steaks, and cut them out of the plastic wrapper, setting them on a plate. I take off the gloves, search through the cupboard, and find a few seasonings, sprinkling them on the meat. Heading back to the fridge, I grab the two mushrooms, wash them both off along with a few bell peppers, and cut them in half, placing them on a separate plate from the steaks. Done with all my prep work, I take both plates outside, along with the gloves.

“What the hell are you doing?” Looking to my right, I hold the steak in my hand up higher so Sven, who is standing just outside the sliding glass door that leads to the deck off the kitchen, can see, and then lay it on the grill before doing the same with the second one. “The neighbors are going to think you’re nuts,” he mutters as I shut the lid on the barbecue.

“Oh well,” I tell him, pulling off the gloves. “They’ve probably already seen me naked. Me wearing yellow gloves is better than that.”

“Nothing better then you naked, baby.” He smiles, and then his eyes drop to my hands. “Are these really necessary?” He chuckles as he takes the gloves from me.

“I didn’t want to get blood on my hands.”

“If you would have woken me up, I would have done it.”

“You needed to sleep.”

“I didn’t need to sleep. I fell asleep.”

“Because you were tired,” I point out, walking back into the kitchen, where I take out two baked potatoes from the microwave and cut them out of the plastic surrounding them.