“Yes, honey, I do. I want more children.”
She smiles radiantly. Her sweet brown eyes are radiant, and her lips look like the best dessert I could imagine.
“You don’t think it would be weird if you had grandchildren older than your own children?”
I think a bit on the question and answer in a roundabout way.
“I had a terrible marriage, as you know,” I explain as we hike. “After my divorce fifteen years ago, I was burned out. I thought that more kids were not in my future. It would just be Harlow, and as much as I hate her being an only child, I knew she’d be fine. So I focused on my business. I dated, sure, but it wasn’t anything serious. The women I met were absolutely not maternal, and I was fine with that.”
I pause for a moment before continuing.
“But now, yeah. I want to have more kids. Maybe it’s because of Fannie and Freddie. I don’t know, but something’s changed and I’d love to hear the pitter-patter of small feet again, as cheesy as that sounds.”
Jane’s gone silent, and in fact, she’s not even standing next to me anymore. I turn, and she’s motionless in the woods, a smile on her face.
“Sweetheart, what’s wrong? Is everything okay?”
“I know this sounds weird, but I’m dying to start a family,” she confesses. Her voice cracks with emotion, and she admits, “I feel like being a mother is my purpose in life.”
I shake my head and take one small hand in my own, even as my heart leaps.
“You’re twenty-five, you have your whole life ahead of you, and you haven’t even really started your career yet.”
She shakes her head.
“Brent,” she says firmly. “I am a receptionist at an insurance company. I’ve spent the last few years trying to figure out next steps, and nothing ever really comes to me. I’ve finally realized the reason. It’s because I want to be a mother. That’s my purpose in life. I want a family. I want kids and a husband, and I want the white picket fence. I know this traditional stuff probably sounds weird to say, especially since I’m a college graduate, but it’s true. I don’t want to be some powerful CEO, or to run my own company. I want a family.”
My heart soars and I take her in my arms. Her honesty is refreshing because there’s no scheming, and no games in those soft brown eyes. This woman wants what I want, and our goals are aligned.
I kiss Jane passionately and my voice is soft when I say, “That’s what I want too, sweetheart. Someone who wants to come to Bear Woods for a day, someone with real values, and someone who will raise my children. I want a partner in life whom I adore with lush curves and curly brown hair.” I kiss her again, and this time, we have a meeting of our minds as well as our hearts.10Brent* * *A month later.
Jane’s coming over to my place for takeout and Netflix, and I’m looking forward to it. I spend every free minute I can with the curvy girl and at this point, I think she must know I’m madly in love with her. After all, I make love to her non-stop and bombard her with compliments. I give her gifts, and even offer to wash her car for her, like a lovestruck teen. It’s a little pathetic, but I don’t care. I adore this woman, and I think she loves me too.
However, we’re still not open about our relationship. We’ve agreed Harlow and Gray don’t need to know just yet because my daughter’s pregnant again, and Gray works with me. These days, he’s handling a lot of stuff at the company too, so I don’t want to tear him away from his responsibilities because it would just mean less time for me with my curvy girl.
When the doorbell rings, my feet hardly touch the stone floor. My house (Jane calls it a mansion, but at 8,000 square feet, it barely qualifies as far as I know) is empty because my staff generally goes home early when I have her over. It’s easier to keep secrets when no one else is around, although I think they suspect.
I open the door and there she is, in her black trench coat. My hopes grow, “Aren’t we doing dinner and Netflix?”
She winks, “Yes, sir.”
“Then come in, sweetheart. May I take your coat?” I ask as I close the door behind her curvy form. God, I hope she’s naked underneath it.
“Of course, sir,” she smiles and lets me sweep it from her shoulders.
Damn. She’s wearing a snug pink sweater and tight jeans which highlight her assets. I can’t complain. I kiss her cheek and then turn to the closet.
“You got my hopes up with the infamous trench coat, missy.”