Thirty-Eight
Leo
“I’ve got that,” I say as Harper goes to reach for her wallet.
She frowns, pulls her hand out of her purse. “O-okay,” she says.
But it’s more question than outright agreement.
“I know you offered to treat me”—I touch my phone to the payment screen, hear the little bleep that it’s been accepted—“but just call me old-fashioned.” I kiss her jaw.
She leans back, studies my eyes for a moment.
Then just smiles softly. “Thanks.”
Relief ripples through me and I hand her the plate with her apple turnover, snagging my own cinnamon roll and the number placard for our drinks—tea for her, a lame green juice smoothie for me (because the season fast approaches and I need to get my nutrition on point)—then follow her over to what I’ve begun to consider is our table.
The first time we leveled with each other.
So why am I not leveling with her today?
Why haven’t I leveled with her over the last couple of weeks?
Because she seems so happy and settled. Because she’s growing our baby and I love her and I want her to continue feeling happy and settled. Because having her in my house, waking up to her beside me, coming home to her in my kitchen, sitting next to her on the couch while she puts stickers in her planner and picks the perfect pen to use to write out her to do list and teases me about my fumbling with the crochet project is fucking perfect.
But…what about those bills?
Does she need help?
Is she still struggling?
Or is living with me helping her get ahead?
Her lease was up in a few months but I paid the fee for her to break it without her knowing, which is probably—no, is definitely—overstepping. But it cleared the way for her to move in with me, and now she doesn’t need to worry about money.
I’ve got her.
“You didn’t have to do that, you know?” she says as she sits down.
“I know.” I drop into the seat across from her. “But I like treating you.”
Her brows drag together. “You’ve been treating me a lot lately, though.”
“Have I?”
Her frown deepens. “Yes, you have.”
“Well, you’ve been cooking most of the meals at home,” I say, thinking fast. “I figure this is the least I can do.”
“Hmm.”
“I—”
“Here you go.”
I smile up at the teenager who’s brought us our drinks. “Thanks.” He nods and disappears, and I refocus on Harper. “I’m happy to cover things like this. It doesn’t bother me, and I like buying you things you like.”
“I appreciate that, I really do. I just…it’s…”
