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Carefully she folds the stroller so she doesn’t wake their daughter, who’s fast asleep in the playpen at the other side of the living room. She pushes it back against the wall near the front door and sighs as she begins leafing through the mail.
It’s a small stroller, easy to pack and take with you at a moment’s notice. If you have the right car.
And they don’t.
Not a single one in his whole damn collection easily fit all their daughter’s necessities and the stroller. And forget it if she needed to sit in the backseat with Christina to feed or entertain her on a long drive—her knees ended up in her chest, her head bumping the ceiling more often than not.
They needed something child friendly and they needed it now.
Scooping up the baby monitor and still clutching two flyers from the mail, she pushes the front door open and finds him in the midst of washing his beloved R8.
Perfect.
Turning the volume all the way up, she sets the monitor on the sidewalk and crosses the short distance where he’s working. His back is still to her so she watches silently for a moment, taking in the way the sun catches in his dark hair, how his shoulders flex as he moves.
“So...” She bites back a laugh as he tenses for a split second. “I think we need one of these.”
Smiling, she wordlessly hands him the sale flyers from the mail. His eyes narrow then blink rapidly several times as if trying to puzzle out what in the hell she could be talking about.
Honestly, she doesn’t want a minivan either, but she can’t help it. This is their dynamic—mutual respect with as much teasing as the other can take—and she loves it. Loves the way he tries to hide the panic that settles on his face.
“What... When... Have you completely...” He stands, the shiny flyers crunching in his hand as he tilts his head towards her. “No way in hell.”
A silence settles, not an uncomfortable one, just a long moment where they push each other to see who will break first.
It’s usually him.
(Though with the way her eyes flare and her jaw tenses just so, could you really blame him?)
It’s no different this time.
She’s crossing her arms over her chest, one eyebrow lifted, when he invades her space. “Fine, I guess it wouldn’t hurt to look at some options. Maybe we could get a mule.”
“A mule?”
“Yeah, he could walk by the car, carry Tina’s extra bags and toys...”
“Did I fall back into Ancient Rome and not realize it?”
“We could name him Captain Burro.”
“Doesn’t that mean ‘donkey’?”
“Captain Mula isn’t nearly as distinguished.”
“Of course not.” She smiles, her hand brushing down his arm before snatching the now crumpled papers away. “I have done some browsing online and the Q5 would actually work well for us.”
“Oh?”
“I don’t want one of these things either.” She tosses the papers behind her, laughing at the irritation and amusement warring in his eyes.
“You evil woman.” He leans down and she knows what’s happening just before he turns... The water from the hose hits her full blast, cold and sharp against her skin. “You might want to reconsider it; wood paneling could be a good look for you.”
Laughing, she grabs the soapy bucket and lunges towards him, sloshing part of the water over his shoulders . “Hey, I survived shoulder pads, I’m sure I could survive wood paneling.”
“Of course you could.” More water goes flying and then he’s caught her around the waist, pressing their soaked bodies together. “God, I love you.”
“I know.” She grins, head tipping back as his mouth follows a drop of water still making its way down the curve of her neck. “Love... you... too...”
Her hands fist in his hair, the bucket crashing to the ground and drenching their feet as his tongue skates across her skin, fingers toy with the hem of her shirt.
She pulls him up to her for a searing kiss, tongue and teeth and moremoremore, before falling against the car.
They stay that way for awhile, laughing and smiling, his thumb lazily brushing across her wrist until his gaze falls over her shoulder and—
“Let’s go now.”
“Now?”
He nods, amazed that he doesn’t even have to explain he’s talking about the dealership. She knows.
She always does.
“Tina’s still sleeping.”
“Fine, we’ll go as soon as she’s up; this is technically her first car, after all.”
Grinning, she rolls her eyes and presses one of the car towels against his chest. “No letting her behind the wheel until she’s at least six.”
He laughs, stopping briefly to pick up the monitor, smile growing as she grabs his hand and pull him towards the house. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”