“I… I ha-have nev… never… see-seen… m-my da… dad so mad,” I cry, and his hand on my back rubs in soothing circles.
“He’ll come around.” He will, but when? I’ve never seen my dad look at me the way he did just now, and I hate the idea of him being mad at me, so mad that he walked away. And let’s not even get into my mom’s reaction. She didn’t say anything, but I know she’s hurt and I hate that. “Everything will be okay, but please stop crying. I don’t like it.”
“You can’t make me stop crying!” I sob, and his mouth drops to my ear, placing a kiss there.
“I know,” he mutters, sounding annoyed by that fact. I don’t know how long we sit there, me in his lap, curled around him, his hands rubbing gently over my back, but my tears eventually dry up and I melt into him, feeling the day start to set in and my eyes and body begin to get heavy. “Can I ask why you were moving me out?” he questions, and my body stiffens. I try to move off him, but his arms hold me tighter, keeping me in place. “Talk to me.”
“I wasn’t moving you out.”
“You packed my shit.”
“And mine. I was moving us out,” I admit quietly, and his body goes rock-solid.
“Pardon?”
“I know you love your house, and I know you don’t really want to sell it, so I asked Michelle to tell me how much it was so I could buy it from you, but I don’t have enough for the down payment,” I complain, and his body tenses further.
“You were going to buy my house?” he asks after a moment, and it’s my turn to tense. Pulling my face away from his chest with his hand on my jaw, his eyes search mine. “You were going to buy my house?” he repeats softly, and my teeth go to the inside of my cheek as I shrug. “You hate my house.”
“I like the library and the kitchen, I also like your bedroom,” I defend quietly, feeling guilty.
“Baby.” His eyes move past me as his head shakes from side to side. “I’m selling because I want you to be happy.”
“I want the same for you.” I’ve never had to consider anyone else’s feelings before, but I do want him to be happy. And I really don’t want him to resent me for making him give up something that means so much to him, something that represents a part of his childhood; a childhood that was scarred by the loss of his parents.
“We’re not moving into my house,” he states after a moment, and I feel my face scrunch up in annoyance.
“Yes we are.”
“We’re not.”
“You are so damn annoying.” I push away from him, and since he’s not prepared for my sudden shift I almost fall onto my ass, but thankfully he’s strong and quick, so he catches me before I do damage to myself.
“Be careful.”
He steadies me once I’m on my feet, and I lean closer to him, and shout, “Stop telling me what to do!”
“Fuck me, now you’re mad that I won’t let you move into a house you hate?”
“No, that’s stupid,” I hiss, even though it is partly true. “I’m mad, because I’m trying to do something to show you that I love you, and you’re being a giant dick about it.”
“What did you just say?”
“You’re a giant dick,” I huff and turn to leave, but before I even make it two steps, he’s on me. His arms wrap around me from behind then he spins me around to face him.
“Tell me what you said.”
“I did.”
“Tell me again.”
“You’re a dick,” I repeat, wondering why the hell he wants me to keep calling him that.
“No, the part about you being in love with me.”
“What?” I rear back in a panic, realizing what I admitted to him, not even realizing that I was admitting it.
“You love me,” he repeats quietly, and I stare, having no idea what to do now. “We’ll try my place out for a few weeks. If you don’t like it, we’ll put it back on the market and find a place you and I can agree on.” He smiles then drops his face and nuzzles my neck. “You love me?”
“I’m rethinking it,” I mutter, wrapping my arms around the back of his neck while tilting my head to the side to give him better access to the column of my throat.
“It’s too late for that.” He leans back, smiling down at me, then places a soft kiss against my lips. “Have you eaten?”
“No.”
“Good, me either, let’s go.” He grabs my hand and starts to lead me away, but I stop him.
“Where are we going?”
“Pizza, I’m starving.”
“Where did you go today when you left?” I frown; he was gone three hours, maybe a little more than that.