Free On Any Given Sundae by Marilyn Brant Page B

of my mother’s
house. We may be playing a charade in there, but be straight with
me here.”
    “B-Be straight with y-y-you? ” She
clasped her fingers together and shook them in front of her,
imagining she had them around his neck. “Rob, you’ve d-done nothing
but lie to me since you came into town.”
    “What? I didn’t—” He swerved the car over to
the side of the road and parked it.
    Oh, goody. This was becoming a nifty nightly
ritual.
    “Okay, now you listen up, Elizabeth Daniels.
The only thing I lied about was telling my family we were a couple.
With Tony and Maria-Louisa guessing the truth, the only person I’m
lying to—and asking you to lie to—is my Mama. And yes, yes, I know
that’s still scummy of me, but I have my reasons, and I already
told those to you. I haven’t lied to you about a thing since
then.”
    “We’re also lying to the k-kids.”
    He shrugged. “But they don’t really
care.”
    “They do. Camilla does especially.”
    He narrowed his eyes at her. “That’s why
you’re mad? Because of them?”
    It was partly the truth, but she didn’t
clarify, which also made it partly a lie as well. Still, she wasn’t
going to explain that if he touched her again she might have to
choke him to make him stop. Every cell inside her body went haywire
with desire for him when their fingers joined together. And looking
into her eyes, so sincerely it seemed, for those few nanoseconds
before she realized he was just acting…that almost did her in at
the Gabinarri house.
    “Huh. You really like kids, don’t you?”
    “Yes,” she said.
    “How much do you like them?” he asked, his
voice laced with suspicion. “When you get married, how many
children do you want to have?”
    Well, there was no denying it. She wanted
what she wanted. “If I get married, I w-want four.”
    “ Four! For real?”
    She nodded, shrugged and turned to look out
the window.
    “Jeez,” he said. “What is it with you
women?”
    She figured this was a rhetorical question he
didn’t expect her to answer. She was wrong.
    “Elizabeth?”
    “What?”
    “Explain this to me. Why on earth would you
want a brood of little rug rats tearing up your house? They make
messes everywhere. They ask a gazillion questions. They fight and
bicker with each other until you’re crazed with wanting to get away
from them. Granted, they’re cute and all, especially when they’re
asleep, but that’s hardly a reason to have so many of them living
with you.”
    She thought about her mom—the delightful
messes they made together in the kitchen when she was little, the
long walks they took while asking questions about each other’s day,
the warmth and closeness they’d always shared. Motherhood was such
a special relationship. A gift to treasure. Then, knowing she’d
sound like a Hallmark card but not caring, she said, “Because
p-parenting is about real and true love.”
    This comment seemed to halt his wagging
tongue.
    “So what’s wrong with getting a dog or a cat
or a pet alligator?” he said finally. “You could fall in love with
a baby black widow. I’ve seen it happen. This guy in my college
dorm treated his like royalty. He named her ‘Legs’ and he kept her
in a golden—”
    “Rob.”
    “What?”
    “That’s not the same thing. At all.”
    He sighed. “I guess not. I just—well, it’s
hard for me to imagine I’d ever feel ready. That I’d ever know I
could handle the problems that’d come up. My mother—she’s amazing.
She knew when we were really sick and when we were faking. She
helped us with our schoolwork even though English was her second
language. When Dad died, she kept the family together, despite her
own sorrow. I mean, she must’ve just wanted to crawl into bed and
hide in her room for three months, but she didn’t. She worked. She
made our meals. She let us be sad or angry or whatever we felt.” He
gave her a serious look. “I wouldn’t be able to pull off something
like