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Story: The Drummer

“Any questions?” I ask, pretty sure I’m missing something.

My fears are confirmed when she raises her hand with a “first grader having to pee” face.

“Yes, Callie,” I say, playing along.

She points at the container of appetizers. “Are you going to finish those mozzarella sticks?”

She yelps and takes cover when I launch one at her.

CHAPTER TWENTY

“What about kids?” Callie asks, staring at the ceiling with her head in my lap.

We’re cuddled on the couch, enjoying each other’s company in a rare moment of light-hearted peace. My left hand plays with her right in random caresses as we talk about everything and nothing.

For hours.

I have no idea what time it is, because I turned my phone off. After spending the entire day being tortured by that possessed device, I’ve earned a break and don’t even want to look at the thing until tomorrow.

Right now, every brain cell I have goes to Callie. We’ve shared basically every bit of information two people can share with each other. I’ve told her things I’ve never told anyone. Even a few I nevershouldhave told anyone. It’s amazing how it all just pours out with her. I’ve learned to be guarded. To always assume anything you say or do will come back to hurt you. But with her, it’s the opposite. I want her to know everything I am. And the trust I feel with her is something I haven’t experienced with anyone except my sister Elena.

“Casey. Kids? Any thoughts?”

“Do I believe they exist? I didn’t used to, but my uncle said he saw one in the woods once—ow!”

She smacks my chest, and I grin down at her.

“You know what I mean. You come from a huge family. Is that something you want as well?”

I huff a dry laugh. “No. Not even close.”

Huh. Interesting. My response came out so effortlessly. Without dating a serious partner, this is a question I never officially thought about. But I guess I have my answer.

“That doesn’t mean I’m totally against the idea of having kids, just not… ten of them.”

She shudders. “I still can’t wrap my brain around that. I’m not sure I’d be able to handle the standard two-point-five.”

“Which half would you want?”

“Of the point five?” she laughs out. “Top half.”

“Really? I feel like that would be more work than the bottom half.”

“Why are we assuming a horizontal split? Doesn’t vertical make more sense?”

I squint at the wall. “Hmm. Yeah, probably. We’re gonna need the right side, though, because that kid will be an artist like his dad.”

Her lips tip up, and our fingers slide together until our palms meet. With a soft sigh, her eyelids flutter in an effort to keep them open.

“You can go to bed, you know,” I say gently.

She yawns and turns on her side, her head still resting on my thighs. “Not… tired…”

She tugs our joined hands down and pulls them to her chest. Within seconds, she’s asleep.

I shake my head with a smile and brush the hair from her face with my free hand. It feels like I could spend hours staring down at the ray of sunlight in my lap and I’d never get bored.But I’m exhausted as well. This day has drained everything I have mentally and physically. Tomorrow could be even harder.

For a brief moment, I wonder if I should wake her and move her to her room, but the thought of not being close to her for an entire night seems painful. We’re on a massive ottoman jutting from the couch, so there’s plenty of room for both of us.