“You’re good with children,” I tell him. He tilts his head to face me. “Is that a fact?” “Yes. Maybe you should have some of your own someday.” “Will you make them with me?” “Are you asking me to sleep with you?” He shakes his head. “No, I’m asking whether you want to have children with me. Don’t confuse the two, love.” And he asks, “Will you be their mother?” “No?” “Then, I don’t want them.”
