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She tugs her hands into her sleeves, resting them in her lap. I’m 100 percent sure she has no idea what she’s doing to me right now.
“I mean, I was thinking rice for dinner.”
My eyes narrow. She could hold seminars on avoidance. “From me,” I clarify.
“I don’t want anything.”
Liar.
“We both know that’s not true.” I set down my mug. “You told me at the bank that you needed my help. You insisted. But that was weeks ago, and every time I’ve tried to bring it up since, you’ve disappeared on me.”
“Oh.”
I wait, hoping there’ll be more.
There is. “I’m sorry. I know I said that, and I have been meaning to talk to you about it, but I guess I didn’t know how and I didn’t want to burden you on top of the house and moving and your jobs…”
“How are you feeling about it all? The house and the move?” I tuck the rest away for now.
“Good, I guess.”
“You don’t sound so sure.”
“I’ve never lived with anyone before. It’s an adjustment.”
I couldn’t agree more. “You’re not a burden, Bee. No matter what else is going on, I want you to talk to me.” And then, because the last thing I need is to freak her out so terribly she never comes out of her room, I add, “If we’re going to live together, it needs to work for both of us. Me and you. This is just as much your house as it is mine.”
She turns her head, scanning the kitchen slowly, taking it all in, piece by crumbling piece. The pale green cupboards, the laminated counter, the sealed window with its crochet skirt curtain.
“You were pretty determined.”
“I’ve always wanted a home. A place of my own.”
“I didn’t realize. You always had a different girl on your arm. I just thought settling down wasn’t for you.”
Holy hell, she’s pouting. Jealousy, huh? Okay, I can work with that.
“I fought it. Didn’t want to be my parents, you know? They married so young. I thought waiting would make it more meaningful. Turns out I shouldn’t have waited.” Except I’m glad I did, since it brought me to you.
“Don’t say that.”
“I’ve been frivolous in the past, but I’m not after that anymore. I want something real. I want someone I can dedicate myself to. I’m not interested in holding back. No games, no pretense. If I’m in, it’s 110 percent.”
“Not many guys feel that way. I’m shocked you’re still single. If I met someone like that, I’d…”
“What would you do?”
The air crackles between us.
She breaks it. “I’m not sure. Guys my age are all about sex.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t date guys your age, then.”
Her chest rises and falls, and even though we aren’t touching, my skin heats.
“Maybe you’re right…”
The sweater she’s wearing is knitted and tan, warm against her pale skin, bringing her freckles into sharp relief. It’s paired with a red skirt or dress that cuts off mid-thigh. Damn, it takes concerted effort not to stare at her legs.
