“How long have we been sleeping?”

“The sun is setting, so a couple hours.”

I rolled over on my bed and snuggled deeper into Jacob's armpit, enjoying our extended afterglow. “I’m living in a fairy tale. You are my prince.”

“I don't have a white horse.”

“You have my heart.”

We pressed our naked bodies closer together under the sheet.

He laid his hand on my bare chest. “Thump thump.”

“Make it beat faster.”

Jacob leaned over and suctioned his lips around my puffy nipple. “Thump thump. Thump thump,” he murmured. Then he slid his free hand across my thigh and rubbed my clit.

My hand found his balls. I caressed them with my fingertips.

He halted his gentle touches, reached under the mattress, and yanked out a wrapped condom. “They're everywhere.” He worked it on his cock and presented it to me for further petting.

Between tender kisses, we fondled each other's swollen parts as our bodies undulated on the bed, the friction of our entwined legs stimulating our groins, my hard nipples brushing against the soft hairs on his chest.

We both breathed deeply, hands crawling over skin, our embraces becoming more urgent.

As I hooked my right leg over Jacob's back, his formidable shaft found my slit. 

Lying on his side, Jacob pumped in and out, and in and out once more, groaning as he gyrated against my spot. 

I could tell from the tremor in his chin that he was about to erupt inside my pulsating walls. 

“Ugh.” He shuddered as the semen spurted from his cock. “Darn it; I wanted to make you cum first, Honey.” His body jerked, getting the last bit out.

“Make me cum now.” I pushed the sheet off, spread my thighs, knees up, and I dipped my pinky between my lower lips.

He removed my hand, sucked it clean, and said, “Allow me.”

I leaned my head back and let Jacob's fingers do the walking. He knew exactly how to please me, how to tease me, how to rock my world, in and out of the bedroom.

Delirious from riding on the edge, I needed to cum. Hard.

“Now,” I told him.

I kept my hips still while Jacob did the work.

Work he did. 

He thumbed my clit, and my orgasm burst through my lips. I convulsed on the bed, howling in ecstasy, my squirts spattering on Jacob's arms.

He patted my soaked bush as my breathing slowed. 

“You're amazing.” I reclined my head on the pillow behind me. 

Jacob spooned my round bottom and covered us both with my patchwork quilt. “Yes, I am.”

...

When I woke up from another nap, I felt Jacob stroking the baby hairs on my edges. 

“What are you smiling about?” I asked as he beamed at me.

“The drool on the side of your mouth,” he replied, “and the crinkles around your eyes.”

“Ew.”

“You asked.” 

“Next question. What is your New Year's resolution? Or do you hate them with the fire of a thousand suns?”

Jacob stretched his legs. “Resolution: spend more time with Honey.”

“We see each other every day. And every night.” I jiggled his sack.

“Resolution accomplished! Do you have one?”

“Flow into the new year with purpose. What that purpose is, I don’t know,” I laughed.

“Can I flow with you?”

“Of course.” I ran my palm over his carved torso. “I want to move in with you next year. No, wait, I want to move with you next year. No. Next year, you, me, separate places, but in the same direction? Good grief, you’re rubbing off on me.”

Jacob placed his fingertip on my nose. “You want to have the ‘What are we doing? Where are we going?’ conversation? Because I came prepared this time. Arguments locked and loaded.”

“When we had the official Meet the Parents dinners last month for Thanksgiving--”

“Even though we’ve already known each other’s parents for years,” he acknowledged.

“It felt right. Perfectly imperfect.”

“Next Thanksgiving, I’ll host, make both sides come to us for one dinner.”

“So you envision us together long-term.”

“Long-term, short-term, all the terms,” he declared.

“Then we do need to have a conversation.”

“What did I do?”

“A conversation about family.” 

“My mum was kidding. Her ancestors weren’t really involved with the Salem Witch Trials. Her family is from Kenya. She’s never even visited Massachusetts.”

“You and me.” I blurted out, “Do you want to be a father?”

“Are you pregnant?”

“No. I'm not. I am asking a general question. Which is related to our specific relationship.”

“I hadn't thought about it.”

“Never?”

“Not really. I have time.”

“I don't. I'm 36. I've been avoiding the conversation I need to have with myself.”

“What are you thinking now?”

“I'm not sure how to answer that.” My hands shook. “Let’s start with you, then. Do you want to have children?”

“Yes,” Jacob answered immediately. “Do you want to have children?”

I paused. “I don't know.”

Jacob looked stricken.

“That's not a ‘No, but I don't want to say no.’ It's not a “Yes, with complications.’ I am truly conflicted about this decision in a way I haven't considered before.”

“What brought this on?”

“The new year. This past year.”

“What happened this past year?” Jacob asked.

“You.” I fought the tears burning my eyes. “I want to go into January with a definite plan. So I have to figure this out by midnight.”

“What am I supposed to do? Sit here and wait for you do decide if you are breaking up with me?”

“I didn't say that.”

“But that's what this is, right?” he demanded. “If I want kids, and you don't, then you want to end our relationship?”

“Isn't that what you would want?”

“No!” Jacob screamed. “You and me. It's all I never knew I wanted. I needed. I need you, Honey.”

“I need to think.”

“Would dinner help?”

...

“The cobbler's in the oven.” Jacob sat with me at the dining table. 

I could see the questions running across his face. But he held them in.

“Champagne? Fancy.”

“It was on sale.” He poured a flute for each of us. “Plus, I get an employee discount.”

We ate our food.

“Bangers and mash.” I swallowed the sausage and potatoes. “More curry in this dish than I remember from my last trip to London.” 

“It’s my father’s recipe. He told me to make it, because he thought you would like it.”

“I do.”

Jacob granted me the silence to continue pondering the situation.

I finished my meal. Jacob took my plate to the sink. He served himself a second helping.

“I like children in general,” I determined. “I love my godchildren.”

“They love you.”

“How many children do you want?”

“Enough to harmonize for a sibling musical act, like the Von Trapps.”

I smiled, daydreaming about my adorable boyfriend, chasing a gaggle of his brown, floppy-haired moppets. 

Jacob gazed at me longingly, hoping to garner a response.

The issue wasn't solely that I hadn't been in a serious relationship for so long that parenthood hadn't crossed my mind since my twenties.

The oven timer dinged.

Jacob rose and used my quilted mitts to remove the steaming cobbler. The peaches bubbled through the cracks in the crust.

The issue wasn't that I was too stubborn to change my ways. Nothing in my life was set in stone. I could easily upend my daily habits to raise a baby. 

Raise a baby.

“I'll let it cool.” Jacob searched for the dessert plates in my cabinet, clanking the ceramic dishes.

“I don't want to give birth,” I realized out loud.

He closed the white doors. “What did you say?”

“It's the delivery,” I said. “And the gestation.”

Jacob pushed his chair next to mine and sat down. “You don't want to be pregnant.”

I sighed. “But you want children.”

“They don't have to come out of your stomach. We have options. A surrogate, adoption. Other technolo--”

“Is that something you would be interested in?”

“Yes!”

I searched his eyes. “I don't want you to compromise your wishes to--”

“Do you want to be a mom?”

“I do,” I said, excited about the prospect. I hadn't allowed myself to imagine the possibilities before.

“Do you want us to be parents together? When we're ready?”

“Maybe a year from now. I’ll make a reminder in my phone. We can start planning, but I want us to keep getting to know each other. Before we start a fami... Oh my gosh, is this really happening?”

“You are already my family.”

“Jacob, yes, I want to be parents with you.”

He hugged me so hard we tumbled from our chairs onto the floor.

We held each other, laughing and crying.

“Happy New Year, Honey.”

“Happy New Year, Jacob.”