Less Than Nothing

Chapter 22

Chapter 22

"Did I ever tell you about the dream I had about us?" I ask, squeezing a wad of whipped cream onto a strawberry, before putting it in Ryan's mouth.

Fruits are a very satisfying after-sex snack, apparently. Fresh out of the shower, we're sprawled across a soft blanket on the living room floor. The heat finally turned on, which meant I could sport Ryan's button down comfortably, without feeling the frost from outside.

"No." He says between chews. "What was it about?"

After swallowing, he opens his mouth again, and I repeat the strawberry-to-whipped cream process.

"Well, we were at Target, shopping for socks." I start.

"You were offering me a pair of these pink fuzzy ones, and then I started to cry because they weren't fuzzy enough...or something like that. It was a while ago, so I don't remember all the details. Oh, and I was pregnant. With twins."

Ryan blinks. "Wow...twins?"

"Twins." I repeat.

"And they were mine?"

I nod.

My dreams don't tend to feel real, but strangely that one did. I remember the panic I felt when I woke up, fully convinced that I really was knocked up.

He pauses for a beat, and thinks about it.

"You know, it's very possible that I'll have twins in my lifetime." He says. "Twins run in the Russo family," he points to the portrait of him and Maggie, "clearly."

"I think I had this dream the night you told me you had a twin."

"Makes sense."

I feed him another strawberry, and he licks the leftover whipped cream off my thumb.

"I'm sorry you didn't get your socks. Next time I show up in your dreams, I'll bring you a pair."

"Is that a promise?"

He nods.

"A promise to attempt, at least."

"Good enough." I feed him the last strawberry. His head is in my lap, but then he sits up, and grabs the can from my hand.

"This has been an anti-climactic use of whipped cream."

"That sure is a loud complaint from someone who ate all of the berries," I retort.

"Whipped cream with berries are good, you were right about that. But I just know it would taste better in other places."

He doesn't give me a chance to reply, because I'm already laid out on the blanket moments later.

"What are you doing?" I giggle.

"Putting this whipped cream to good use."

There's a smug grin across his face. My back is against the hardwood floor, while he hovers above me.

"Ryan...," I warned. "Don't do it."

"Sorry Alex," he shrugs. "You accepted your fate the moment you put this in our grocery basket."

He's right. I should've known we'd do anything but use whipped cream responsibly.

As I go to plead with him again, Ryan squeezes the nozzle, spraying a glob of whipped cream on my cheek.

Then, in one clear movement, he leans down and licks it off. All in one take.

"Delicious," he smiles. "Knew it'd taste better from your face."