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“What plant thing? I want you to tell them you love them. No biggie.” “I’m not doing that.” I gasp the biggest gasp. “Benny Roger Phillip Frankie Dalton—” “None of those are my middle names—” “Do you really want my babies to think you don’t like them? Rich has been sick. It’s been a hard time for us all.”
“Say it.” I can feel the reluctance radiating from him. “Like you mean it.” He huffs and drops his head back against my shoulder. “I love your plants. They’re the prettiest flora I’ve ever seen.” “Aww …” I headbutt him this time. “I think you just got Stacy pollinated.”
“What’s your first thought when you see this?” I ask, flicking over to a picture of an adorable koala yawning. There’s a beat of silence, and then Jordan has my back. “Cute?” “Wrong! Chlamydia.”
“Forests smell.” “This is the bush, babe.” “Bush. A bush is what’s between your legs right now.” I laugh, if only to dispel some of the nerves. “You said you like the retro look.” “I’m going to say anything to get in your pants.” Trim the pubes. Got it.
