“Not two or three children,” he said. “A real family. A house full of people. Children running around, everyone eating together, birthdays, holidays. I want a life that feels full.”
I laughed.
“How many children are we talking about?”
He grinned.
“Six, maybe seven.”
At twenty-one, seven children sounded like an impossible number. I told him he was out of his mind.
He took my hand.
“You’d be an amazing mother.”
I should have asked him what kind of father he intended to be.
I should have asked how he
