“Yes, ma’am, best pancakes for miles. Only pancakes for miles,” she said, not cracking a smile. I wasn’t quite sure whether or not she was joking.
I looked at Clint and he shrugged and nodded.
“I’ll get a stack of pancakes, then. Just your regular order,” I said. “With a glass of orange juice.”
The waitress nodded absently and looked at Clint.
“Uh, I think I’ll try a ham-and-cheese omelette,” he said. “Side of bacon. White toast. Thank you, ma’am.”
He looked at me after she walked off.
“Breakfast for dinner, really?” he asked.
“You didn’t have to copy me,” I said. “I like pancakes, sue me.”
He grinned. “I’m happy to copy you, sweetheart.”
“So, you asked me what I wanted,” I said.
He nodded.
“I wanted to have a stellar career.. I wanted to be the boss, I wanted to be the boss’s boss, you know?”
He nodded again. “I can appreciate that,” he said. “You wanted to work hard and get recognized.”
I smiled, relieved. “Yes, exactly. You get it.”
“Did you want children at all?” he asked. He smiled sympathetically at me, but his eyes were serious. I knew that my answer would be important to him.
“I hadn’t thought about it much one way or another,” I said, honestly. “I’ve never spent a lot of time with little kids, although I like them fine when I do. I’ve assumed I’d have one or two, but in a while. A long while. Maybe in my mid-thirties? Not now,” I said.
“You’ve said that that’s changing?” he asked.
“Oh, come on, you have to tell me what you think of that. You can’t just reply with questions like a therapist,” I said.
He grinned an easier grin at that.
“It’s weird,” he said. “I think it’s weird. I don’t mind it at all, but I always pictured myself with a rancher’s daughter who had grown up wanting ten children and fifteen hands around the table every night.”
“Even you’d need a bigger table,” I said.
“All relationships take adjustments,” he said, his tone mock-serious, his eyes sparkling.
He squeezed my hand again and looked into my eyes.
“Really, Naomi,” he said. “I know that that’s not you, that that’s never been you, that that will never be you. You’re not what I thought I wanted, but damn if I don’t love everything about you.”
He paused.
“Everything that does not involve football.”
I nodded. I would never not hate football, that I was pretty sure about. It was nice to have one unchanging conviction right now.
My glass of water was large and cold, damp on the outside from beads of moisture running down the side. I picked it up, took a sip, and continued to hold it, looking down into it instead of meeting Clint’s eyes.
“I’m afraid that if we stay together, you’ll be disappointed because your wife doesn’t know how to cook and clean like you’d want her to,” I murmured.
“I’m afraid that if we stay together, you’ll feel trapped and come to hate my ranch,” he said, just as quietly.