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By the time Sebastian comes home and knocks on my door, the manuscript is still untouched.
“Hey,” he says, leaning against the frame. He looks good in his blue work shirt and man bun. “Can I ask you something? It might seem a little strange. Can you smell bleach right now? I swear I’ve been getting random whiffs of it since we moved in, but I can’t tell where it’s coming from.”
I dodge his gaze for a moment, trying to think of something (anything), but my brain is a tumbleweed of nothing.Eventually, I have to clear my throat and hope he doesn’t dig. “Nope, can’t say I have. Weird.”
“Very,” he says with a smile. “I’m cooking ribs for dinner. Are you hungry?”
My ham sandwich doesn’t sound half as appealing as a cooked meal, but as I open my mouth, he sees my plate. “Never mind. Maybe tomorrow night.”
As soon as the door is closed, I throw myself onto the bed.
Maybe I’ll try tomorrow (story of my lifeandthe special edition title of my autobiography).
7
SEBASTIAN
Maybe Beejust likes her privacy.
I get that. I remember college. It’s just. I’ve been looking forward to this. Once I was over the shock of her offer, the idea of getting more of her, so I could genuinely get to know her away from Aiden, away from everyone, was tantalizing.
And maybe the universe is on my side about this, because when I enter the kitchen, she’s already there.
“You’re avoiding me.”
“No, I’m just… giving you space.”
I don’t believe her. There’s got to be something more going on.
“Do you need space from me?”
“No,” she says, but the short breath she needed beforehand clues me in.
“You hesitated.”
Bee levels me with a look. Apparently, she doesn’t like being called out. But that’s just something she’ll have toget used to, because I’m going to have a hard time helping her otherwise.
“I’m just, you know. It’s your house, so…”
“It’s our house. Us. Together. Which was your doing, if I remember correctly.”
Christ, the way her nose scrunches up when she smiles oughta be outlawed for the way it makes me want to tear through this kitchen to kiss her.
“I don’t regret it, you know.”
I busy myself scooping grounds into the filter so she can’t see how affected I am. Because I’m worried, will probably always worry, that she’ll regret it. Maybe not today, but one day. I saved and planned and chased down this future, but Bee dove in headfirst, and I wouldn’t blame her if she changed her mind.
Would support it, even if it meant losing this place.
“Good,” I grind out, and turn back to her. Now’s as good a time as any to have this conversation. She doesn’t know it, but she’s just provided me the perfect opening.
“Sit. We need to talk.”
“Would if I could, but there aren’t a whole lot of options. Unless you want to magic me a stool.”
I press closer, lifting her by the waist and planting her on the counter. Much better.
The coffee beeps as it finishes, and I move so I’m at a safer distance. “What do you want, Bee?”
