“And you don’t think you’d get tired of being with one woman, for all that time?” I ask, goading him. “You don’t think, after all those years, you’d fall out of love or lust or whatever it is that makes people commit to each other forever?”
“It is a long time, I’ll grant you that.” His blue eyes hold mine steadily. “But even if I marry one woman, I won’t be spending my life with just one woman.”
“So you’re saying you’d cheat?” My voice goes up an octave. “You condone cheating, but you’re giving Grayson crap for his opinions?”
“I didn’t say I’d cheat. You didn’t let me finish.” Wyatt’s lips flatten into a serious line. His voice goes low, laced with passion. “Marrying one woman doesn’t mean spending your life with one woman, because the funny girl you fall in love with on a first date at twenty-eight eventually becomes the fascinating creature you propose to at thirty, then evolves into the stunning bride you wait for at the end of an aisle at thirty-two, and finally grows into the astounding mother to your children at thirty-four. By forty, she has blossomed into the businesswoman, the force to be reckoned with. By the time you’re fifty or sixty or seventy or a hundred, she’s been everything — your wife, your lover, your friend, your companion, your sous-chef, your travel partner, your life coach, your confidant, your cheerleader, your critic, your most stalwart advisor. She grows with you. She changes with you. She is always stable, but never stagnant. She is not one woman. She is a thousand versions of herself, a multitude of layers, an infinite ocean whose depths you plumb over a lifetime, whose many treasures and intricacies, quirks and idiosyncrasies you need an entire marriage to explore.” His voice softens.
“A man should be so lucky to spend his life stuck with one woman such as that.”