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Ian’s eyes sparked with humor, but his firm lips stayed in a straight line. “Move in with me.”
“What?” I yelled. The coffee shop fell silent, and when everyone turned in our direction, I sank in the booth and covered my mouth with one hand. Ian choked on a small laugh. I kicked out underneath the table, connecting with his shin. When he grimaced, I dropped the hand covering my mouth. “Absolutely not.”
“See? Just as I predicted.”
“Oh fuck off,” I said, completely without heat. “Ian, that’s crazy.”
“Why?” he asked. “I have a big house. You and Sage could have the upstairs bedrooms and bathroom. I work full time. I’m at my mom’s house for dinner a couple of times a week. You’d practically have the place to yourself.”
My mouth fell open. “Holy shit, you’re serious.”
The chiseled features on his face didn’t move a single inch. “Would I offer if I wasn’t?”
“No,” I answered slowly. My brain was moving pretty fucking slow, too, because this was not the thing I’d expected when he asked me that question.
I thought about his house—that pretty, big house with the pretty, big piece of land. I thought about how he’d always believed in me and how easy it was to be around him again.
“What’s your hang-up? I can see the wheels turning up there.”
“It’s not just about me,” I told him. “I have a daughter. She’s ten, and … this might be confusing to her.”
“If you want me to meet her first, we can do that. Kids fucking love me.”
I snorted.
“They do. Greer has a stepdaughter who’s obsessed with me. Last week when they were visiting, Olive refused to sit on anyone’s lap except mine.” He paused. “Erik has a daughter, too, but she’s less than a year, so she hasn’t been able to form a true opinion of me yet. That’s more of a her problem than a me problem.”
Had I mentioned that the Wilder family was massive?
They were normal size when I met Ian. He had two brothers. Simple enough. Then his mom died—which was sad enough at the time, even though I couldn’t really wrap my brain around it when we were less than ten years old. A couple of years later, his dad remarried Sheila—she had three kids of her own, and a couple of years after that, they welcomed Poppy into the mix. Brady Bunch on crack and with a lot less manners.
“So one kid likes you,” I said. “Let’s give the man a gold star.”
Ian didn’t find me very funny, which was a shame because I thought I was hilarious.
“Bring her over tonight,” he said. “Tell her you need to drop off a housewarming gift. If she hates me, you don’t move in.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “You are simplifying this way too much. Did you ever consider that the overthinkers among us are the ones who know what’s up?”
“No.”
With a sigh, I slumped back against the bench. “Fine. I’ll bring you some chairs so people can actually eat at your table.”
His eyes crinkled at the edges when he smiled, and it made him look annoyingly dashing. “I’m almost done with the chairs, if you must know.”
My head reared back. “You … what?”
“I’ll be home around five thirty,” he interrupted smoothly. “If you want to eat at my place, let me know, and I’ll pick up pizza. Otherwise, I’ll reheat some leftovers.”
“You made that table?” I asked.
His eyes stayed steady on mine.
And with my mouth hanging open, my brain whirring at a million miles a minute, Ian stood from the booth.
“See you later?” he said.
“I … yes?” I answered weakly.
