"What an exhausting day," I commented, watching my girlfriend finish fastening her seatbelt.
"I know, sweetheart. Though I can't deny you looked incredibly sexy solving that case," she flirted.
"If you keep seducing me, we're never leaving the parking lot," I warned her.
"Then you'd better start the car, or I'll never be able to look your parents in the face again," she laughed.
There was a lot of traffic; it was strange, but apparently it was because of the rain. I put some music on to pass the time.
"By the way, now that I remember, you still haven't taught me how to dance," I complained.
"Oh wow, you're right. How about I teach you tomorrow?" she suggested.
"And why not today?" I asked, a little disappointed.
"I thought you were tired, and it's better for you to rest," she suggested again.
"Wow, we've already been here twenty minutes and the line hasn't moved," she said, changing the subject.
"You're right," I agreed.
"I'll go ask. Maybe the other driver knows what's going on," she said, unbuckling her seatbelt to get out of the car.
I watched her run toward the car in front of us. She didn't take long before moving forward, but it took about five minutes before I saw her running back to our car. She shook herself slightly, scattering raindrops onto the driver's seat—and a bit onto me too.
"Apparently there was an accident up ahead. A truck carrying wooden logs overturned, but no one was hurt. They're picking up the wood that scattered across the road, but the rain isn't helping things move any faster," she informed me.
"You're soaked—take that off," I said, helping her remove her jacket. "At least no one got hurt," I added, and she nodded as she finished taking it off.
"Is that my playlist?" she asked excitedly.
"Yeah, I wanted to listen to some of your music," I replied.
"It's good music!" she exclaimed.
"Some of it," I teased.
"Not true, they're all good," she defended herself.
"Well, I don't understand some of them," I excused myself, pointing at the radio.
"That one's a classic, love—pure narcissism at its finest," she explained.
"You sing way too fast!" I complained.
"I do not. Look how I sing," she said, starting to sing.
I never got tired of watching how effortlessly she flowed in her language. My girlfriend sang at the top of her lungs, and she sounded incredible.
"Want to do karaoke?" she suggested, and I nodded, laughing. "Your turn. What are you choosing, sweetheart?"
"'29' by Demi Lovato," I replied.
"Is that a dedication?" she teased.
"Maybe it is," I teased back.
She joined me, and we were singing at the top of our lungs. We didn't care if anyone heard us—especially with the rain coming down harder, making it almost impossible for the people in the cars around us to hear anything.
I always loved that she dedicated songs to me, and although she thought I never looked up the meanings or translations of what she dedicated, I must confess that I know exactly what all of them mean.
I even know what several of the very explicit songs she's dedicated to me mean. She must think I still don't know what they're saying.
"You're going to love this one," she warned me as she searched for the song on her phone, and of course I would—it was Love Story by Taylor Swift.
We sang randomly, but when the chorus came, we synced perfectly. When the line "Marry me, Juliet" played, she pulled the same little box I had already seen from her pocket. She opened it, and I saw the same engagement ring. Even though I already knew she had it and that she was going to propose, I couldn't stop the tears from rolling down my cheeks.
"Yes—of course yes, love," I said as she took the ring out.
She slipped it onto my finger, and I noticed her hand was trembling. It was so tender; maybe she was extremely nervous or thought I might say no. I cupped her face with my hands, the ring already on my finger, and kissed her. It was a kiss full of love.
"Sorry it took me so long," she murmured, apologizing against my lips.
"I thought you'd never say it," I murmured back, embarrassed.
"I didn't know how to do it. I had some ideas, but…" she fell silent and looked at me. "Did you read what was written on the paper with my ideas? Is that how your mother found out?" she asked, bringing her hands to her face.
"My mother read the paper with your ideas?" I asked, alarmed.
"You didn't tell her?" she asked, looking at me in terror.
"Of course not. How would I ever tell her what you were planning to do to me?" I excused myself.
"Then how did it happen?" she asked, confused.
"Well… I didn't want to see you reject me, so I went to our apartment and packed all my clothes into my suitcase—but I also packed the jacket you have in the back. I started crying, and suddenly I touched something hard. That's when I found the box with the paper and read it. I saw that you wanted to propose. My mother arrived, and then I went to the hospital, leaving the box there, but I don't know where the paper went," I said quickly.
"What?" she asked, trying to process everything. "So you're telling me it's more than likely that my mother-in-law took the paper, read it, and that's why she knows. This can't be happening… At this rate, I'll never be able to look her in the face again," she said, mortified.
"How does my mother know about the proposal?" I asked, confused.
"I asked her for an idea to propose to you, and well… that's how the paper came up," she sighed, defeated. "And I really thought it was going to be a surprise," she added sadly.
"Why do you think it wasn't?" I asked, incredulous.
"Well, you already knew about the proposal, you knew about my ideas, and you've even seen the ring," she said, resting her face on the steering wheel.
"Oh, I see. But love, could you look at me first?" I asked. She lifted her head to look at me, clearly downcast.
"Yes, I knew everything—but I never imagined you'd propose to me like this. Unless you had caused the accident yourself," I teased.
"I didn't dare go that far," she teased back.
"Even if you had proposed exactly the way it was written on that paper, I still would've been surprised and excited. Because all I want is to marry you," I said, smiling to calm her.
"Are you sure you're not just saying that so I don't feel bad?" she asked, looking at me with wounded puppy eyes.
"I would never do that, love," I whispered, caressing her cheek.
"You know, today I haven't told you how much I love you," she murmured, kissing me.
"You haven't, but you could show me," I replied, pulling slightly away from her.
"I'm very good at showing it," she continued, whispering coquettishly against my lips.
"Could you show me at home?" I asked, biting my lip. "Look—the line has started moving," I pointed out.
"I'm on board with that plan," she nodded, starting the car.
"You know, I also would have loved the fourth option on your list," I whispered into her ear.
"But I did that one, I asked your mother for help," she replied, confused.
"No, love, the one about taking me on a trip… what else was there? Making love to me, right?" I teased, and she flushed bright red.
"That was my sixth idea," she admitted, red as a tomato.
"The bathtub one was good too," I continued teasing her.
"I can make that one come true as soon as we get home," she said, her expression turning into one full of lust.
I had never imagined I would experience such deep happiness again, a happiness that felt almost unreal. Paulina is the best thing that has ever happened to me. Even though we've had our ups and downs, we've managed to overcome them, and now the only thing that matters is creating memories together, living together, doing everything together.
We've always dreamed of traveling, but hospital administration has been hectic. Everyone has been taking care of me, neglecting administrative duties. Luckily, that's my area, and now I help my father-in-law ease his workload.
A month ago, my in-laws asked me to help with management. I accepted, of course, though they didn't tell me I'd be in charge of everything. I thought I would just lend a hand until things got organized, but officially, I was named vice president, and it has been crazy managing everything.
These past four weeks have been the longest of my life, barely seeing my fiancée. I've only seen her at night, while she slept.
I've been coming home late, and when I finally arrive, I find Paulina asleep, either in our bed or on the couch, waiting for me. The good news is that today I finally managed to finish all pending tasks, which was not easy at all—especially with Valentina's mother, who refuses to accept that I am vice president. However, I've tried to handle it as professionally as possible. She looks for any reason to undermine my work.
But finally, this will be the last time I come home so late. Starting Monday, I'll have a normal schedule, so to speak. When I arrived home, I saw her sleeping deeply, and I couldn't stop staring at her. I feel so lucky to have her, since she always supports me and is patient. I didn't want to make noise or turn on the light so as not to wake her.
I entered silently to take off my clothes. Paulina must be exhausted; today I learned she had a long surgery that lasted several hours.
I went into the bathroom, changed quickly, brushed my teeth, and when I finished, I turned off the light and closed the door. On tiptoe, I approached the bed and slid in gently, covering myself carefully and hugging her from behind. She felt so warm, so comforting, and I loved having a place to always return to. I didn't take long to fall asleep; just a few minutes later, I was in a deep sleep.
I felt a tingling in my stomach. Something was caressing my abdomen. At first, it stopped—or so I thought—until I realized where that hand wanted to go. It slid carefully beneath my stomach, and before it reached my core, I grabbed her hand with mine and opened my eyes wide.
"Good morning, love," I greeted her, rolling on top of her. "What are you doing, you little rascal?"
"Me? Nothing," she feigned innocence.
"Your nose is going to grow like Pinocchio's if you keep lying," I whispered, leaning close to her lips. "I'll make breakfast today," I warned, getting off her.
"No, no, no!" she protested, straddling me.
I didn't know why she was throwing a tantrum, but it was so sweet when she did.
"I've already been without you for a month. I've tried to be patient," she complained, unbuttoning my pajama top. "Now, my breakfast is you," she whispered in my ear, biting my earlobe.
"I'm not a very nutritious breakfast," I teased, "but today will be a battle, and I don't plan on losing," I warned before we disappeared beneath the sheets once again.
I kissed her lips fiercely, as if I hadn't seen her in years. But I wasn't the only desperate one. It seemed my fiancée had also been making a huge effort to be patient.
.......................
"I thought you wouldn't give up so easily," I teased.
"I'm not giving up, you just have more energy," she excused herself, pulling on her blouse.
"You talk as if you were twenty years older than me," I said, rolling my eyes.
"Ha! No, but when you're twenty, you definitely have more energy. Or are you going to deny that?" she said while putting on her shorts. "Besides, I remind you that I had knee surgery."
"I won't deny I have a lot more energy, but you still have more energy than many young people," I teased.
"That's good to know," she replied, finishing getting dressed.
"Love, can I ask you something?" she said nervously.
"Of course, love. Always," I replied, kissing her lips as we walked toward the kitchen.
She searched for the ingredients to make herself a cup of coffee while I leaned against the kitchen island.
"When we were separated… were you with someone?" I finally asked.
She turned around and stopped making her coffee to stare at me.
"I wasn't," she answered patiently.
"It's okay, I would understand if you were with someone—"
"I wasn't," she interrupted. "Why are you asking?" she said seriously.
"I just want you to tell me everything," I replied, and she went back to preparing her coffee.
"I was in therapy," she confessed as she finished making it. "It helped while I was dealing with my heart complication."
"I'm sorry, love," I apologized.
"We agreed on something," she reminded me.
She handed me the cup of coffee, and I took it while she sipped hers.
"I know," I said, embarrassed.
"I was with someone," I confessed, and she looked at me, surprised.
"I know," she replied coldly.
My eyes widened in shock. How did she know? Did she see me? Did my mother tell her? I had never said anything.
"Do you remember when I came to the office for the second time? That day, a girl walked out of your office," she reminded me.
"It wasn't with her. I just messed up her appearance to see if you loved me, because I wanted to make you jealous," I confessed almost in a whisper. "I know my behavior was immature, but I just—"
"Paulina, there's no point in talking about this," she interrupted, exhausted.
"But I don't want to hide anything from you," I said more firmly.
"Fine," she said angrily. "Tell me. How many did you sleep with, and where?" she asked, furious.
I swallowed hard. The only times I'd seen that look—so harsh and angry—were when she was jealous.
"Forget it," I said, frightened, walking toward the bedroom.
I went into the room. I knew it hadn't been the best way to bring it up, but I needed to tell her. This weight was consuming me.
I heard the door open and felt Shanti sit beside me, since I was turned away.
"I'm sorry, love," she apologized. "But it's hard for me to hear that, and to be honest, it bothers me to think that someone else touched you. I know it's silly, because we weren't together, but I still want to rip the head off whoever touched you," she sighed, and I turned to sit up.
"I feel terrible, because I was stupid. While you were in therapy and almost dying, I was sleeping with others," I said, my throat tight.
"That's in the past, love. Now we're together," she smiled. "But if you need to get it out, I'm willing to listen," she said calmly.
"I met the first one at a bar, and I don't remember anything from that night—just the headache and a horrible feeling of guilt in my chest. I felt dirty. It was with a guy," I told her while she listened attentively. "The second time was intentional, and I only did it because I saw you talking to a cashier at the supermarket," I felt stupid admitting it.
"What?" she said, confused.
"One day I saw you at the supermarket, and you were at the register. I saw how the cashier smiled at you and… you know, my jealousy spiraled out of control," I said, embarrassed.
"Should I have asked her how much it was?" she smiled, trying to comfort me.
My jealousy had no limits, and even before, I hated it when anyone even looked at you.
"Love, I only have eyes for you. I know it sounds cheesy, but I swear I only see you," she said, taking my hands and squeezing them gently.
I sighed, remembering what Amelia—a family acquaintance—once told me: that she'd offer me money or anything I wanted if Shanti would sleep with her.
"Love, what are you thinking about?" she pulled me out of my thoughts.
"I remember the day my jealousy started to spiral. It was because of Amelia. Do you remember her?" I asked.
"No," she said, trying to recall.
That made me feel worse—because she had never really paid attention to anyone else.
"She's a family acquaintance who had the nerve to offer me whatever I wanted in exchange for you sleeping with her," I finally admitted.
"Oh wow… I feel flattered and disgusted at the same time," she said, frowning.
"I wanted to hit her right then and there," I said angrily. "And it's all your fault."
"My fault?" she asked, confused.
"Yes. Your habit of lifting your shirt when you work out," I complained.
"I need to dry my sweat," she defended herself.
"And you can't dry it with a towel?" I protested.
"I forget," she defended herself again. "Wait… is that why you asked me to work out at home?" she suddenly realized.
I'd just ruined it. Now she knew why.
"Seriously, love," she laughed.
"Don't make fun of me," I pouted.
"Now I'll have to punish you for that, so I'll keep doing the same thing," she warned me, then whispered against my lips, "but don't forget, I only want you to see me."
I sighed and pulled away from her slightly, and she frowned.
"You really don't see anyone else?" I asked, incredulous.
"No. Ever since I realized I'm in love with you," she answered sincerely. "And you?"
"Neither do I. It's like you're the center of my attention, and it's kind of annoying, you know?" I said, irritated.
"Does it bother you that you only see me?" she asked sadly.
"It bothers me that everyone sees you, and I notice it—because I only see you," I said quickly. "That's why it bothers me to have all my attention on you. Because if it were somewhere else…"
"I'd realize you don't love me," she interrupted.
"You're right," I said, defeated.
"I know you're jealous, but I'll give you a tip to vent those feelings," she said.
"Tips?" I asked, confused.
"First, if you see something I'm doing that bothers you, whisper it in my ear—I'll understand. Second, if what's bothering you isn't really my fault, tell me what it is; maybe I didn't notice. And third, if for some reason I didn't listen when you told me what bothered you… well… get revenge," she shrugged.
"What?" I said, frozen. "Wait… those are three tips, and the last one… what do you mean, get revenge?" I raised an eyebrow.
She gave a playful laugh, and from her expression, I knew I wasn't going to like what she was about to say.
"In bed, love," she whispered right by my ear.
"In bed?" I stammered.
"Exactly," she smiled triumphantly.
"I see… and you're crazy," I replied, pushing her away.
"Why?" she feigned innocence.
"How many times have you used that last tip on me?" I asked, challenging her.
"Many times," she said mischievously. "I'm jealous too, haven't you noticed?" she confessed, kissing my neck.
My heart was racing. I didn't know whether I was scared or aroused by her confession. But how does she hide her jealousy so well?
"When did that happen?" I asked, nervous.
"Mmm… the first time was when I told you not to go to that party because that doctor didn't give me a good feeling. Another time was when the patient kissed your cheek to thank you."
"What?" I said, confused.
"You mean the patient I operated on for appendicitis?"
I looked at her, and she stayed silent, confirming my guess.
"My God, Shanti! She was ten years old!" I reminded her.
"You didn't see how she looked at you," she excused herself, placing my fingers on the bridge of my nose.
"Also, when you stared at that model walking down the street…"
"I saw her because she was looking at you," I excused myself.
"And when we reconciled, too…" she continued.
"All those times, you were very rude to me. At least you noticed how long it took for the marks you left to disappear," I said indignantly.
"I'd say sorry, but I don't regret it," she said brazenly.
"You're shameless," I said, glaring at her.
"Shamelessness comes with me too," she smiled mischievously.
"Good to know," I said, smiling as I tossed her onto the bed.
I climbed on top of her.
"Now we'll see if your tip works," I said, grinning wickedly.
......................
"Love, will the girls come today?" Omar asked, reviewing some documents.
"No, love, maybe tomorrow. You know how your daughter has been a crybaby this month," I teased.
"Shanti has been the same," Omar responded, laughing. "Every free moment she had, she was messaging our daughter."
"I doubt Paulina will let her leave the bed these days," I continued teasing.
"My God, woman, don't tell me that! Paulina is still my baby!" he complained.
I smiled, though sometimes their behavior didn't amuse me, so I decided to start knocking on the door. I was also worried about how desperate my daughter was for Shanti, even for something as trivial as Shanti being without a shirt.
I worried so much about this that I even asked Paulina to talk to her therapist and give an explanation about these impulses she had.
I snapped out of my thoughts when I saw my phone screen light up. It was a call from Shanti's niece. Since I gave her my number, she always asks about her aunt, but it seemed strange that she called instead of texting.
"Hello, dear," I greeted, waiting for the response on the other end.
"Good morning, Mrs. Scott. This is Gina, Shanti's sister," the voice responded, surprised.
"Good morning, Gina, what a pleasure to hear from you. How are you all?" I asked cheerfully.
"Good, thank you. And you, how have you been?" she replied.
"Good, dear. We're all doing very well, thanks for asking. You know, a couple of months ago, we were informed that Shanti no longer has any risk of transplant rejection," I told her.
"Yes, my daughter Alejandra told me, and I'm really glad to hear she's fully recovered," she said, with a slightly sad tone.
"Gina, I know I shouldn't interfere in your family matters, but Shanti would be happy to see you," I said.
She stayed silent for a few seconds, as if debating with herself, and finally said:
"Do you think she would accept us again? Because, with everything she's been through, she never reached out to me…" she asked, sounding sad.
"I understand your concern, Gina, but there's an explanation. Shanti lost your number, you changed jobs, even moved houses, and she never found you," I clarified.
I heard a sob on the other end, and then a man's voice consoling her. I waited patiently until she could compose herself and replied again.
"I'd like to go see her. Could you give me her address, please?" she asked.
"I'll give you my address, dear. Because where she lives, sometimes even I'm not allowed in," I said, making her laugh. "I'll send it to you in a message."
"Dear, I don't want to pressure you, but you should come as soon as possible. I think you're missing out on many moments with her," I persuaded her.
"Could I go tomorrow?" she asked anxiously.
"Of course, dear. I'll also let my daughter know so she can come tomorrow with Shanti," I confirmed.
"Alright, thank you, Mrs. Scott. I'll be there tomorrow," she confirmed.
"Good, dear. It was a pleasure, take care," I said.
"Likewise, take care," she replied, and hung up.
"Who was that, dear?" Omar said, approaching from behind and startling me.
"Omar, you scared me!" I complained.
"Sorry, dear, I didn't mean to scare you," he apologized.
"Shanti's sister is coming tomorrow to see her."
"That's wonderful news, dear! Call the girls to let them know," he said happily.
"Yes, although I wanted it to be a surprise," I said, thinking about how to manage that.
...................
"Love," Paulina called for the third time.
She had been nervous since yesterday, when her mother called her. I didn't know what was said, but I did notice she was cleaning our apartment, something neither of us usually did.
"Dear, could you help me?" she asked.
"Love, the apartment is cleaner than an operating room," I informed her.
She froze, then nervously sat beside me, taking my hands. I could feel them trembling, and it worried me.
"Dear, I have to tell you something…" she began, nervous.
"Oh God! Paulina, we agreed we'd wait until we were married to get pregnant. Why didn't you tell me, love? You know I want to be with you through the whole process," I said, sad, lowering my gaze.
"What?! I'm not pregnant," she denied.
"Oh, you're not?" I raised my eyebrows, surprised. "Then why are you so nervous?" I asked, confused.
"A few days ago, my mother spoke with your sister Gina. And… well, she's coming tomorrow," she told me, squeezing my hands for support.
"What?" I looked at her, confused and surprised. "How did she find her?" I asked, worried.
"She has her ways," Paulina tried to hide it, but the truth was obvious.
"Really…" I said, a little upset. "Paulina Scott, tell me the truth."
"I gave her the address," she confessed.
"How did you find it?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Well, I found out where she was some time ago," she explained.
"Paulina!" I protested. "I asked you not to do that. You know they're complicated, and I don't want to disturb their lives. It would be so hard to even try talking to my sister. It would hurt," I complained, feeling distressed.
"I'm sure your sister feels bad for having distanced herself from you," she tried to reassure me.
I didn't say anything. I just felt sad. But it seemed we had to go to my in-laws' house.
"We should go," she told me.
"Is it necessary to go so early?" I complained.
"Yes," she replied.
"Weren't we supposed to go tomorrow?" I asked, tired.
"Yes, but my mother wants us to have dinner today," she informed me.
I couldn't keep refusing, so reluctantly, I got into the car. We headed to Walmart to buy an apple pie my mother-in-law had requested.
......................
"I want ice cream," I said, craving it.
"Are you sure you're not pregnant? Because, honey, I wouldn't mind if you were. You know that, right?" she asked me again, very cautiously.
"Honey, I'm not, for the fifth time," I replied, a little exasperated, but then added, "But I do want that ice cream."
"Alright, though you'd look beautiful pregnant," she said, making me blush.
We walked, searching for a shorter line, and it was impossible not to feel loved by her. Every second she showed it, not just with grand gestures, but also with small details that revealed how much she cared. Like getting my favorite ice cream and making sure it was perfectly cold, just the way I like it. Or going down the soda aisle to get the one I like, along with my favorite snack.
"I forgot that I'm out of tampons, honey. I'll go quickly for them," I said, leaving her in line.
"Don't take long, it's our turn soon," she warned, watching the line progress.
I quickly grabbed my tampons, and on my way back, I saw a woman staring at Shanti. I watched her for a moment because I felt like I knew her. It annoyed me that she kept looking at her for so long.
"I think it's her," the woman said to a girl standing next to her.
"Mom, I don't remember her. I couldn't tell you if it is or isn't," the other girl replied.
I wondered if they knew my fiancée. I walked past them, trying to overhear their conversation, but all they did was stare at her. I got back to Shanti's side but couldn't stop thinking about who those women could be.
"Honey, did you find everything?"
"Yes, love," I replied, a bit distracted.
"Everything alright?" she asked, seeing my worried expression.
The cashier greeted us.
"Good morning."
"Good morning," Shanti responded.
"I hope you found everything you were looking for."
"Yes, thank you very much," Shanti smiled at her.
And there it was again, her kindness, which sometimes seemed like flirting. Though now I knew her flirting was very clumsy, I laughed internally realizing how innocent she was about it.
"That will be $34.30," said the cashier, looking at the screen.
"Yes, of course," Shanti handed over a bill.
"Your change, and thank you very much," the cashier smiled.
"Have a nice day," Shanti finished.
We loaded everything into the car, and I was a little annoyed by the interaction with the cashier.
"Honey, are you jealous?" she teased.
"No," I replied, though I knew I was.
"Of the cashier?" she said, incredulous.
"Yes, also. But there was a woman staring at you constantly," I warned her.
"You can't get jealous of every person who looks at me! Oh God, she didn't have anything on her face, right?!" she panicked.
"Silly," I laughed at her antics.
"I know you love me," she kissed my lips.
"Better we leave before there's traffic," she murmured over my lips.
"Okay," I nodded, getting ready to leave.
We were almost there, and suddenly, I saw Shanti frown. I looked ahead, but there was no one.
"Honey…" she called me in a serious tone.
"Is something wrong?" I asked, worried.
"We have something important to talk about," she said seriously.
"About what?" I asked, feeling nervous.
"The first baby we have, and if it's a girl, she should have my middle name. It can also be her second name, if you don't mind," she said very seriously.
"You're silly, you scared me," I hit her arm, which was so firm it surprised me.
"You don't mind if she has my name?" she looked at me with those puppy eyes, waiting for an answer.
"Of course not. Also, I was thinking of giving our first two daughters your names, something like 'Sadie Shanti…'" I began to say.
"No, no, no!" she refused firmly. "You won't give my first name to any of my daughters," she insisted energetically.
"Why not?" I asked, confused.
"You know what I've had to deal with with that name. I just want it to be my middle name, and if you want, you can give all our daughters my middle name," she laughed.
"But your first name was given by your parents," I reminded her.
"I know, but I never liked it. In fact, I always told my parents I didn't like it," she kept refusing.
"Oh, please, honey!" I complained.
"No. Just the middle one. But we can give her your middle name, if you want. Imagine, the baby looks like you. She'll be beautiful," she commented, excited.
That's when I realized Shanti truly wants to be a mother. I could see her eyes shine when we talked about our family, our children.
"Love, are you listening?" she moved her hand in front of my face. "We're here," she informed me.
"Do you want to do it quickly here in the car?" I bit my lip, looking at her with desire.
"Love, please," she said, defeated. "That's what you were thinking?" she said, placing her fingers on the bridge of her nose.
"It's just that when you talk about our kids, I want to rip all your clothes off," I said, innocently.
"Paulina," she scolded me. "That's why your mother thinks that if I were a man, we'd already have a dozen kids. And by the way, why does she think I'm the lustful one in this relationship?" she asked, getting out of the car and taking the apple pie.
"Because you are," I replied, closing the door.
"Of course not, it's you," she defended herself.
"Oh, really? Tell me, who says, 'I only exercise to be a sexual toy, just for you'?" I reminded her.
"Paulina, for God's sake, someone could be listening!" she blushed, standing next to me.
"Mr. Madox, good morning," I greeted my parents' new gardener.
"Good morning, ladies," he said quickly, a little embarrassed.
"Oh my God! Now everyone knows about our sex life," she complained, looking around.
I laughed and took her hand to go inside. I always loved teasing her, but I didn't understand why she complained. She teased me too.