“You don’t want to be married to me?” His eyebrows furrow, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from smiling at the half-scowl, half-pout on his face. I can already see our children pulling that look, too.

“Guess you’ll never know. What’s done is done.” I push a little more, intentionally trying to get him worked up. I like to get him going. It always turns out so delicious when I do.

Before I know it he’s flipping me, and I land ...