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She smiles. "No, a pet. Actually, we’re not buying one; we’re planning to adopt from an animal shelter."
"Dogs are a lot of work."
She shrugs. "So are children, and yet I wouldn’t trade my babies for anything."
"It’s different."
"No, it’s not. It’s all about commitment," she says, avoiding eye contact. That sets off an alarm in my mind.
I may not have much experience with relationships, but I learn fast. After what happened earlier in the bedroom, before our shower, I’ve realized that in matters of intimacy, our rolesare reversed. Brooklyn understands everything about giving and surrendering, while I have no idea how to navigate this path to reach my goal: making her my wife.
Yes, because if I wanted her before we had sex, now there’s no doubt in my mind—she’s perfect for my plans for the future.
"I have no issues with commitment," I defend myself. "Or with taking care of living beings. I’ve saved more lives than I can count."
To my surprise, she stands up with a smile and comes over to me. She motions for me to slide back my chair and then sits on my lap. "Those are your patients. You don’t have much choice," she says, kissing my cheek. "Doctors take an oath to save lives, if I remember correctly."
"Yes, I did. But what I’m trying to say is, I know what it means to be committed to something."
"We don’t need to talk about these things—commitment or responsibilities."
I decide not to push her. Perhaps it’s too much for one night. "Tell me more about the dog."
"We don’t want a purebred. Any dog will do. Actually, I’d prefer a mutt, like the one Madison and I had as kids. Eleanor adopted it from a shelter, and in a way, it was what helped us open up to her."
"I thought you’d always been close."
"No. At first, Madison and I didn’t accept her. She was a saint—she had endless patience with us."
"Why didn’t you accept her?"
"Neither of us is good at trusting promises. Our father broke them all the time, so when she told us she’d never leave us, we got angry because we thought she was lying. Then, when she brought us the dog, we slowly began to realize we were becoming a real family—not just two kids fending for themselves."
"I don’t like your father."
She shrugs. "He’s been dead for a long time. I rarely think about the past."
"I’m not like that. If I dislike someone, that doesn’t change just because they’re dead."
"Some people at the hospital said you don’t like humans in general."
"That’s true. There are only a few I care about, but that’s not what I’m saying. I despise your father, even if he’s not here to know it."
"He wasn’t all bad."
"The hell he wasn’t, Brooklyn! You and your sister grew up practically on your own. It’s a miracle nothing worse happened to you."
She seems thoughtful for a moment, then nods. "Sometimes I think that’s why I got involved with Moses so quickly," she admits, blushing. "Out of neediness."
Hearing her talk about that bastard, remembering she once belonged to him, fills me with a nasty, unpleasant feeling. For the first time, I understand what she meant in the bedroom—how she doesn’t like hearing about my exes.
Trying to shake off the jealousy and obsessive thoughts, I decide to address the real topic we need to discuss. "Are you done eating?" I ask.
"Yes. What’s going on?" She’s noticed the change in my tone. Brooklyn is very intuitive.
"Do you remember what I said when I picked you up today?"
"Yes. You said you’d found out something about my past."