My breathing quickens up just a tad, and Spencer notices. He’s attentive like that. I bet he’d make a good dad one day. I freeze up like a deer caught in the headlights. “Are you okay?” he whispers, trying not to interrupt our tour guide’s enthusiastic speech. “I’m not having kids until I’m thirty,” I blurt, and Spencer gives me the weirdest look known to man before bursting out laughing. “Aww, Chuck-let,” he says, doubling over with laughter as the others glance back to see what all the fuss is about.
