She finds my jersey on the floor and quickly puts it on.
As she fans her hair out of the collar, all I see is my last name.
“Honey Evans has a really good ring to it, don’t you think?” I ask absentmindedly.
She smiles, looking at me from over her shoulder before making her way toward the bed.
“Do you want a tour?” she asks instead of getting back in the bed.
“Of the apartment?”
She nods, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Figured you might actually want to see the apartment since you kissed me straight to bed when we got here.”
I push the covers off me and get out of the bed so I’m standing in front of Honey. Even in the dark, I can find her hands, and I interlock our fingers before pressing a quick kiss to her lips.
“Lead the way, Honeycomb. There’s nothing I want more than to see the apartment you’ve been living in while I’ve been sleeping in Dax’s guest room ten minutes away.”
Her nose crinkles. “It’s probably more like fifteen minutes in traffic,” she corrects as she pulls me out the room to reveal a living room and kitchen.
Admittedly, it’s small. Smaller than anything I would’ve picked out, but it has everything Honey needs. A kitchen with her own mixer, candles scattered across the living room to help her relax, and a large desk with her laptop and a few notebooks beside it.
This is Honey when no one has any say.
“I love it,” I say, noting the framed picture of us from senior pictures in high school.
I needed to find myself first before I could find you.
“Really? You like it?” She looks around with a hopeful smile on her face.
“Yeah.” I run my hand along the kitchen counter, looking out the window at the street below. “When can I move in?”
She takes a sharp inhale in surprise.
“W—what?”
“I know I’m a big guy, but I think there’s enough room on that couch for the two of us.”
“Is that what you want?” she asks. “To move in here?”
“Why wouldn’t I want to live with my fiancée?”
“I don’t know. I guess I just—”
“I’ve been living in Dax’s guest room for four months,” I cut her off. “I kept looking at apartments and none of them felt right.” I hold her gaze. “I didn't want to pick something you didn't like. You picked this, and it’s perfect.”
She's quiet for a second. “But here—it's a little small for you, isn't it?”
I look around. At the papers on the desk. At the spice rack. At the sofa she picked out herself.
“No,” I say. “It's got you. That's all I want.”
Honey’s eyes get glassy for a second before she laughs softly.
“I love that you have seen all of this, and somehow your first thought is us.”
I cross the room, place my hands on her hips and guide her backward until the couch catches behind her knees. She drops onto it, laughing under her breath as I lean over her and press my mouth to hers.
When I lean back, she’s still breathless beneath me, her cheeks flushed as the ring catches the dim apartment light.
