It’s simple. You move in … and on.
But as I take in the pile of clothes, the spot on the couch where I kissed her last and then the chaise, I’m reminded of something else that I wanted at one point in my life. And I remember why.
For the first time in over a decade, I give myself a second—the briefest second in the history of mankind—to contemplate that kind of life again.
It makes me smile.
But I’m still too scared to hope.
Dara
“So did you sit on his face?” Rusti asks before stuffing the end of a donut in her mouth.
I gasp. “Russell!”
She rolls her eyes and carries her napkin to the trash can. Cleo trots behind her like the princess she thinks she is.
“What? I’d give you the sordid details of my sex life if you asked,” she says, leaning against the counter in my kitchen.
I turn my attention back to my computer and work on an image of a family of four.
“I don’t want that imagery of you or Zack,” I say.
“So did you?”
I look up long enough to give her a look.
“You’re an awful best friend,” she says.
“Why would you even want to know that?” I ask. “Like, fine—yes. At one point in the night, his face was between my legs.”
She squeals. Cleo yelps in response.
“And it was an absolute masterpiece.” My heart flutters as I giggle, ignoring the now-howling dog. “But I’m not sure why we need to discuss that.”
“Because I need to know how serious this is getting. Also, because I’m nosy.”
My gaze snaps right back to my computer.
What bothers me most about her innocuous question is that it bothers me. Plain and simple.
I’ve never been a person who gets weird about the status of relationships. Actually, I prefer there not to be a status more times than not as of late. Sticking labels on things you know from hello isn’t going to last seems … unproductive. Trippy. Dumb.
But this thing, whatever it is, with Wade, is anything but normal.
Rusti props her feet up on a chair and sighs. “So it’s that serious, huh?”
“No. It’s not serious at all.”
“Liar.”
I slam my computer lid with more disrespect than its price demands.
“Look,” I say, using my best stern voice, “I don’t know what it is. Okay? That’s why I called you this morning and left before he woke up.”
She narrows her eyes as if she’s deciding whether to believe me.
“What do you want it to be?” she asks.
“I don’t know.” Exasperation oozes from my words. “He’s not … He’s complicated.”
“They always are.”
I sigh. “I mean it, Rusti.” I try to come up with a way to explain it. “Wade is … Wade. He’s calm and controlled, right? But there’s a really sweet side of him too. Like, for example, he has this little niece who’s just a doll, and she’s obsessed with him. So I go looking for him last night, and where was he? Holding her while she slept.”
Rusti clutches her chest. “Aw.”
“I know,” I say. “And then last night, he took me down to his office and showed me some drawings he’d been working on. For me, by the way. But then we started talking about my grandfather and that whole mess, and he … he was sweet.”
“So do you think he likes you like that? Like could this be something between you?”
I laugh quietly—more to myself and out of disbelief than anything—and avoid Rusti’s gaze.
Do I think it could be something between us? I don’t know.
“You had all of these reasons why you weren’t doing this,” she says. “I’m just reminding you of that.”
“And you had all of these reasons you weren’t going back to Zack again too.” I lift a brow. “When is he coming over again?”
“He’s asleep at my house right now, but that’s not the point.”
I laugh.
“So this guy is worth you forgoing your whole spiel about how you needed to stay focused on yourself and tend to your healing heart?” She shrugs. “If you say yes, I’m in. But if you stutter around, I’m keeping him on as the DH.”
I furrow a brow. “A DH? What’s that?”
“Designated hitter. Zack loves baseball and has been teaching me stuff.”
“Okay.”
I get up from the table with nowhere to go. I meander around the table, around the kitchen island, and back to my chair again. It gives my brain a chance to think without Rusti staring at me.
Is Wade worth it?
He’s my catnip, for crying out loud. He’s all of the things I like in a man. But that also means it won’t end well because those men don’t settle down—at least not with me.
But there’s a little blossom of something, hope maybe, in my belly that makes me want to say yes—that he is worth it. I think he could be someone who treats me with respect and kindness and fun. And I think I could be a partner for him who thinks what he does for a living is cool, could support him, and remind him to ease up on himself a little bit.