“I wonder sometimes what we did to get so lucky and how long our luck can hold.”

“Don’t think that way. We’re going to grow old and cranky together. Or I should say crankier for you.”

She poked his side and made him laugh. “That’s hurtful but true.”

“I try to imagine you as an old lady, and I see you wearing your rusty steak knife in a holster attached to your belt, so you always have it ready, and me jumping between you and whomever you’re trying to stab. My number one job will be keeping you out of trouble.”

Sam rocked with silent laughter.

“You laugh because you can picture it as easily as I do. You’re hell on wheels now. I can’t wait to see what you’re like at eighty.”

“I’m a police officer, Nicholas. Down to my bone marrow. I only talk about stabbing people. I’ve never actually done it.”

“Yet. After you retire, you’ll be a menace to society.”

“I told you I’m never retiring. I’d be bored senseless.”

“I’d keep you busy.”

“We can’t screw all day every day.”

“Why not? It’s our favorite hobby.”

“Because we’d get bored.”

His expression conveyed horror. “I will never get bored with screwing my gorgeous, sexy wife.”

“Even when she’s eighty and wrinkled and packing a rusty steak knife on her hip that she doesn’t remove even for sex?”

He slipped a hand under her to squeeze her ass. “Even then.”

“This helps.”

“What does?”

“Being silly with you.”

“Who’s being silly? I’m dead serious about you and the steak knife and me spending all my days keeping you from stabbing someone in the produce aisle—when we’re not screwing, that is.”

“It’d be more likely to happen in the ice cream aisle.”

“True.”

“By then, I won’t give a flying fuck how big my ass is. You might have to grease my hips to get me through the doorways.”

“I’m all for more of you to love.”

She yawned, and her eyes closed as exhaustion overwhelmed her.

“My baby is tired,” Nick said, withdrawing from her.

While he got up to use the bathroom, Sam turned on her side, ignoring the ache coming from her hip—and the other coming from her heart—as she tried to let it all go so she could sleep.

Nick returned and snuggled up to her, his hand resting just above the scar on her hip. “I can picture it so clearly,” he whispered. “You and me at eighty, living the dream.”

“You’ll be eighty-two,” she whispered back.

She fell asleep to the sound of his laughter, comforted that he could see them growing old together.

In the morning, Sam helped get the twins up and ready for school and made eggs and toast for them and Scotty, who was extra grumpy.

“What’s up with you?” she asked him.

“Big math test today.”

“Oh, okay. That explains the grumpiness.”

“Why do they have to ruin a day we’ll never get back with stupid tests?”