Before she stops to explain I hear the shrill burst of laughter on the phone from the other side of the car. I already like her mother.
Dana says, “Make sure Dad comes, too…I don’t care. Tell him I said to get his lazy, fat ass outa’ the rack right now. He’s got the rest of his retirement to sleep…Okay, Mom. Love you, too.”
I’m noticing a pattern here. Life with this woman is not going to be like my first two wives. They smiled and sweet-talked me and pretended to be the charming, loving life-partner while they stabbed me in the back. With Dana, there is no pretense, no deception. What you see is what you get. I like what I see.
She hands me the phone. Her hand drops naturally to lie on my thigh. It is not a provocative gesture. It is a simple, loving touch.
“I don’t know which I’m going to enjoy more,” she says. “Fucking you in my future ex-husband’s bed, or the look on Dad’s face when he meets the father of his future grandchildren.”
The grin bubbles up from my chest. Looks like I have a new job to do.