“Shit,” she mutters, “this is crazy.”
“They parked a semi-truck on these platforms,” I say, reminding her of the video we had seen. “It’s all good.”
She tightens her fingers around mine and looks down.
“So high…”
I chuckle, bring her hand to my lips, and kiss the back of her knuckles. We both go back to looking over the city, pointing out landmarks and places we’ve been. A man and a woman next to us have a playful argument about whether or not the woman should bring the baby she has in her arms out over the ledge. Eventually she does, but the baby doesn’t seem impressed, and they depart quickly. I watch them go.
“Do you want to have a baby?”
“What?” Alina turns to me, eyes wide. “Evan, are you serious?”
“I think so,” I say with a shrug. “I mean, if you want to. I don’t know anything about kids though.”
“I don’t know very much about them either,” Alina admits. “Loretta has a kid, but he was always with his father and almost never at our place. I’ve never been around babies.”
“Me either. Bastian has a kid though, and it seems to be working for him. If he can do it, maybe I can, too.”
“I’m not sure I’m ready for anything like that.” Alina leans her head against my chest.
“Maybe not right away or anything,” I say, “but someday. You know—maybe in a few years. Make sure all my medical stuff comes back okay. Well, as okay as it can be.”
Alina reaches up and strokes the long scar from my temple to my jaw.
“Someday,” she says quietly. “I don’t think we are quite there yet.”
I nod, recognizing the impulsivity of my question. I’m prone to that now, apparently. Alina has to talk me down every once in a while.
“Maybe we could breed Maisy,” I say. “Puppies might be entertaining.”
“Maybe.” Alina laughs.
I pull her close to me and brush my lips against hers.
“Want me to take your picture?” A bright-eyed woman behind us smiles and bobs her head up and down.
Alina looks at me and gives me a little shrug. We’ve never taken a picture together.
“Sure,” I say. I hand the woman my phone, and Alina steps up close to me. I wrap my arm around her and smile at the camera.
The flash goes off a couple of times, and the woman hands me my phone so we can see the pictures. They look good, and I thank her.
As I stare at the picture, I can’t help but think how beautiful Alina looks with the cityscape behind her. It’s nice to have Alina’s smiling face on my phone where I will be able to look at her when she isn’t home.
She doesn’t leave me alone very often, which I appreciate, but sometimes it’s necessary.
I wonder if I should have it printed out and put it up in the apartment somewhere. I’ve never done anything like that before, but it seems like the kind of thing people do. Rinaldo and Lele had pictures up in their house. There was a huge one in the living room of them from their wedding.
“Should we get married?” I ask.
Alina blinks repeatedly and seems unable to answer. Maybe I’m being impulsive again.
“Before we have a baby or something like that,” I say to clarify.
“Evan Arden,” Alina says as a smile lights up her face, “are you proposing to me?”
It’s my turn to blink. Is that what I’m doing?