I grin from behind my phone. “Recording this for your Oscar speech. Creating funny stuff looks like serious work.”

He pushes my hand away and attacks my neck with playful nibbles. I’m giggling so loud and laughing so hard I have to shove him away as soon as the train stops to race to the bathroom.

The light snow trickling down across New York City looks like a postcard. It’s freezing, though, so I tuck into Landon’s warmth and we cuddle-walk up the street toward Times Square.

“Oy, my feet,” I joke only about ten steps into our walk.

“I’m not carrying you.”

“But I worked sooo hard today.”

“Not doing it. Every time you piggyback you pinch my nipples.”

“I won’t this time.”

“We’re going to invest in some fireproof pants for you.”

“You’re wearing this big-ass coat! There’s no way I’d even get a good hold.”

“Fine, hop on.”

I squeal in victory and lunge on Landon’s back, swinging my legs and tasting the snow dropping from the skies. I feel young and light, with not a care in the world.

And I pinch his nipples.

“Damn you, woman!”

He bounces me up and down, doing the running bull so my boobs knock into his back. We have to stop, though, when he hits a particularly icy patch of sidewalk and we fall to our asses. Then we rub out the bruises, walking like an elderly couple to a street stand of cheap hot chocolates, then to the tourist attraction that is Times Square.

Landon’s fingers are cold around mine, but he never lets go to put them in his pocket. Like new-relationship hand-holding.

“Do you want to direct on Broadway someday?” I ask, nodding to the ticket booths and the giant billboards of the shows.

“Nah…I’m set on getting my ass to LA.”

“Ah…where the sun still shines in the winter.” I sigh. “I can’t wait to go with you.”

“After school, right?”

I take a deep sip of the hot chocolate, keeping my eyes on the bright lights of the city. “Actually…I don’t think I’ll go back.”

He hesitates a moment. “Liz, we can take out another loan. You don’t have to keep putting it off because of the money.”

“It’s not that.” Or just that. I lean back, letting my head rest on his chest while his arms wrap from behind me. The heat from his hot-chocolate cup warms my hip. “I just…I think you’re right.”

“About what?”

“I’m a flake.”

He pauses again, then turns me around, eyebrows bunched together. “I’ve never called you a flake.”

I tilt my head to the side. “You said I get excited about things, then change my mind the next day.”

His eyes widen and his mouth drops open the slightest bit. “Liz, you are passionate about so many things. Just because some don’t stick doesn’t mean you’re a flake.”

“What the hell am I passionate about?”

“Me.”

I snort, because I knew that was coming. He grins and wipes a snowflake from my cheek. “You’re passionate about that vampire show.”

“I hardly think that counts. I’m just saying I have no clue what I want to do with my life. I’m not like you and didn’t know when I was twelve. Still trying to figure it out, because I flake out on everything I start.”

“Bullshit.”

I jerk back. “You callin’ me a liar?”

“I’m calling you out. You keep every promise you make. You have a detailed list for every major task. You work double shifts and keep the apartment clean. You know I wouldn’t last a day without you. There’d be socks everywhere.”

“I bet there’s a pair of socks on the living room floor as we speak,” I say, and he gives me an “oops” look, and I shake my head. “Landon!”

“You see! You keep me in line.”

“Obviously not well enough.”

“Okay, then. You don’t know what you want to do. But say you had to choose right now. No takebacks, can’t question the decision tomorrow, first thing that jumps into your head.”

It happens so quick it’s like it was already there, waiting for someone to force me to make the decision. What I want to do maybe looks like an easy way out, but it doesn’t feel that way. It feels so satisfyingly right. And surprises the heck out of me, considering how relieved I was when…

“You know…when I was fifteen in my career class, they asked me probably about a million times where I saw myself in five years. And I always had these big dreams of being an actress or becoming famous or just being someone. I had a list of Hurdles for those dreams. Get into NYU, take advanced theater classes, study Broadway. And then…well, you came along.”

“Wow. Here I am, being encouraging, and you say I destroyed your dreams.”

“You shush and let me finish.” I tap a finger to his lips. “It’s good that you came along, because I realized I don’t actually want all those things. If I was to answer the same five-year question now, I’d say all I see in my future, all I want in my future, is a family.”

He smiles, pulls my hips into his, and locks his hands behind my back. “So…that’s what you want to do. You want to do me.”

“Over and over till there are tons of little Landons and Lizzies running around.”

He’s still smiling, but he tries to clear his throat as if he’s choking. I laugh and help ease his mind.

“Not right now. But that is what I want to do in life. I want to be a mom. I want to stay home with my kids and watch them learn to walk and to talk and to dance. I want to make them SpaghettiOs and clean up SpaghettiOs and celebrate the day they discover they can fit certain objects up their noses. I can’t wait to watch all their soccer games or school plays—”

“You want to be a soccer mom, huh?” Landon says with a grin.

“Yes. And I want to drive a minivan and give my kids juice pouches. I want a house with a backyard and a swing set or tree house like the one at your parents’, and I want to teach them how to ride bikes and swim and to look both ways and I know it pays nothing and I should really have a backup plan in the meantime or for when it does happen and I get bored or something when the kids are older and in school or with friends or what-have-you. But if I could only choose one thing and one thing only…being a mom? Well, that’s what I’d pick with no second thought.”

He’s quiet. He’s quiet for so long I wonder if I even said anything out loud, but then he picks me up, spins me around, and smiles at me like I’ve dropped from Heaven itself.

“I’m gonna help you get to your dream, Tumbles. Even if it takes a lot of practice.”

“I see lots and lots of practice in our five-year plan.”

He laughs and gives me a sloppy kiss on the mouth before lifting my arm straight in the air with his. “This woman wants to have my babies!” he shouts for all of New York City to hear. People clap and whistle and holler, and I tug my beanie over my blushing face. Of course, Landon pulls it off and kisses me deep and long and with so much heat and happiness I feel like I’m lifted out of my shoes and soaring up to the snowy skies.

He pulls back, keeping my face locked in his hands, and whispers to me like it’s a secret, “Now we run out of here like we’re off to make sweet passionate love and make all these people jealous!” And I’m tugged to the nearest cab, laughing and not giving a single care about the fare as Landon tells the driver to take us to Rockefeller Center. While we sit in horrendous traffic we talk about our future as if it doesn’t scare us, as if everything we want together is completely within reach, and I believe it. I believe it all…that this man will be an amazing husband and father and I even see myself doing all the things I told him. It’s exciting, and we can’t stop hugging and kissing and holding hands and doing all the things we seemed to skip over when we got together. The little things I thought we never would experience again after we transformed from dessert into vegetables seem suddenly so big now that sex is off the table.