“Seriously?” She was using his same low whisper, but hers cracked with fury. “You ask me that question in a house full of people? In a house where my daughter could have heard you?” She paused and took a steadying breath, confusion replacing some of her anger. “And for the record, the answer is no.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

MIKE’S EXPRESSION WAS such a quick flash of sadness then relief that Zoey suspected he didn’t know himself how he felt about her answer. Her hand instinctively went to her stomach, and she had to admit she felt a little stab of sadness herself. Having Mike’s baby would be... Wait just a damn minute. They were forty years old. She did not want to have a baby. Not even with Mike. But what if he’d decided he wanted one?

“Oh, God. Did you want me to be pregnant?”

“Shhh!”

He glanced at the entrance to the kitchen and she realized she’d forgotten to whisper the question. But there was a steady flow of conversation and laughter coming from the rest of the house, and Mary hadn’t popped up in the doorway again. They were safe.

“Of course I don’t want—” he looked to the door “—that. I mean...if you were, it would be okay. But I’m glad you’re not, because...wow. That would be a lot.” His face was ashen.

“That’s an understatement.” They both turned back to the sink. “Whatever gave you the idea I might be?”

“I don’t know. You asked me about kids and it seemed important to you. Once my brain went there, I couldn’t stop wondering.”

She handed him a dish towel for the pans and started working on the glass casserole the baked beans had cooked in. This one was going to take more effort to clean. She tried to shrug her hair away from her face, and Mike reached out to sweep it back over her shoulder. His touch, even just his fingertips, settled her somehow.

“First, if I was preg...” Now it was her turn to glance at the door. “If I was that, I’d tell you. In private. I wouldn’t beat around the bush about it at some cookout, because...well, it wouldn’t matter if you didn’t want children at that point. And second? Yeah, it would be a lot. For me.” She paused her scrubbing long enough to meet his bemused gaze. “Why are you laughing?”

He chuckled, gently flicking the end of his dish towel at her butt. “You’re right. You would tell me straight out about it. That’s what I lo—um...like about you and I.” He took the baking dish from her hand. “I admit I did a panic spiral, okay? I’m sorry. But what made you ask that question about kids?”

It was time to be honest.