“But you’d say yes, is that what you’re saying?” Mik’s blue eyes twinkled. “What?” “That sounded like the only quibble is what you’d call yourself, not whether or not you’d say yes.” Zuzana blushed. “I didn’t say that.” “So you wouldn’t marry me?” “Ridiculous question. I’m eighteen!” “Oh, it’s an age thing?” He frowned. “You don’t mean wild oats, do you? We’re not going to have to take some stupid break so you can experience other—” Zuzana put a hand over his mouth. “Gross. Don’t even say it.” Mollified, Mik kissed her palm. “Good.”
