A smirk crosses over my lips. “Watch porn.”

Wilder’s lips turn up as he directs his attention at me. “That’s an easy one, Pips. We can hammer that out tonight.”

“He always made it like…a bad thing.”

“He only said that because he was watching it like crazy, probably.”

“You think?”

Wilder nods his head. “Oh yeah, babe. There is not a guy on this earth who’s not watching. And if they’re telling you they’re not, they’re liars. Probably had a ton of subscriptions.”

“Well then, I want to watch. I want to see what all the fuss is about.”

“You got it, babe. It’s on the list. Anything else?”

“Hmmm.” I tap my chin.

“There has to be more. From what you’ve told me, Matt is a wet blanket. Were there things you wanted to do that he thought were stupid? Was he ever romantic with you?”

That makes me snort. “Never. Well, I mean, maybe when we first started dating, but that romance quickly wore off, especially after we got married. He didn’t know romance.”

“So then maybe there’s something romantic you want to do that he never did with you.”

I give it some thought, and then when it hits me, I slowly start to smile. “Okay, this is going to sound maybe a touch childish and possibly cheesy, but there is this thing I always wanted to do when living in New York, something I know Matt would never do.”

“What is it?”

“He would totally scoff at this, but I think it would be fun to take a paddleboat through Central Park.”

A genuine smile passes over his mouth. “Nothing cheesy about that. It’s really sweet actually,” he says, writing it on the paper. Then he takes a look at the list. “This is pretty solid, Pips.”

“Let me see.” He hands me the list, and I look it over. “I think it’s a pretty good start.”

“I think so too. And I know one we can check off tonight.” He wiggles his brows. “Not to mention what I did to you only moments ago, which I’m sure Matt the Douche never would have done.”

“Fingered me in a public place?” I ask.

He slyly nods.

“Yeah, never, nor would he have let me blow him in a public place either.”

“Well, frankly, I’m glad you divorced him and that I earned that experience over him.” He lies back on the blanket and stares up at the sky. “Now come over here and try to find dirty-shaped clouds with me.”

Chuckling, I slide in next to him, rest my head on his shoulder, and stare up at the sky, feeling carefree, like nothing could change my mood. Never have I felt so valued—so seen—as I do in this moment.

“I can’t show you.” I shake my head, humiliated by my lack of creative skills.