“Because of who I am.” I struggle for words. “Because of my problems. Because I don’t even know what being a mother entails. I mean, I had a few good moments growing up, but other than that I pretty much took care of my mother instead of the other way around.”

He wiggles his fingers from my hand, grabs my knees, and drags me closer to him. “Exactly, which is why I think you’ll make a great mom.”

“I think you’re wrong,” I disagree. “If anything, it’ll make me a very confused mom.”

His hands glide from my knees to my thighs and his fingers jab into my skin like he’s afraid to let me go. “No way. As much as I hate it, you took care of everyone in that household. You cooked. Cleaned. Paid the bills. Helped your mom take her medication. Stayed home and took care of her while your father went out to the bar every night acting like a teenager. At sixteen, Ella May, you were more responsible than a lot of thirty-year-olds.”

“I did stupid stuff, too,” I remind him. “I think you’re forgetting all the fights I got into, all the roofs I jumped off of, the many times I made you drive reckless and tested the boundaries of life.”

“You had to breathe somehow.”

I think about what he said, squirming because all this positive talk about me is making me uneasy. “You’re seriously freaking me out right now.”

“I know,” he says. “But it’s the truth. You’ll make an awesome mom if and when that time comes around.”

I eye him over with skepticism. “And what if it doesn’t? What if I say there’s just no way I can do it? What if I say that I just want to spend the rest of my life drawing and listening to you sing? Just you and I?”

“Then I guess it’ll be just you and I growing old together,” he says with a trace of a smile on his lips. “And I can live with that, too. I can live with anything just as long as you fucking marry me.” And with that, he gets to his feet. “This weekend. No more messing around.” He sticks out his hand and I take it, nodding.

He pulls me to my feet and we walk toward the door. “Although, I must say that we would make beautiful babies together.” He flashes me a cocky grin and I roll my eyes. “Imagine one with your hair and my amazing eyes.”

“You’re too cocky for your own good. Besides, I’d rather they had your hair and my eyes. I’ve never been a fan of the color.” My face twists in disgust I grab a few strands. “Although I love your eyes, too. Maybe she could just have your hair and eyes.”