“And continue living at your brother’s?” I roll my eyes.
“Or you can go home, and I’ll narrow down the search and present you with the top two choices.” He shrugs.
I’m pretty sure my jaw is close to the floor. Did this man just offer to shoulder the entire burden so I don’t have to? Without demanding? Without insisting?
I won’t accept the offer. This is my future home.
The fact that he offered sends another flutter through my chest. If this continues, my stomach will turn into a full-blown butterfly sanctuary.
My future home.
The idea scares the butterflies away.
“Let’s get this over with.”
“Curb your enthusiasm,” he mutters.
I’m not sure if he wanted me to hear it—not the words, but the subtle resignation behind them. He keeps spending his patience without knowing if he’llever be repaid. Just how long will he stand by me before he runs?
What if I never give him what he expects?
The real estate agent talks about natural light and good bones and investment potential, her voice blending into the city noise as we trail behind her through another immaculate Manhattan apartment.
“This one faces south,” she chirps, pulling back sheer curtains.
Sunlight spills across hardwood floors. Clean. Bright. Empty.
Liam stops short of the window, hands in his pockets. He doesn’t move closer to me. He hasn’t, once.
I notice everything now. The way he waits. The way he stands close enough, but doesn’t reach.
The way he watches my face instead of the space. He doesn’t hold my hand. But he stays close enough for me to reach for his. I don’t. I want to. I think.
But I need to answer the question that is holding me back first. Then I can move forward.
How can I let him in without losing myself?
This is unfamiliar territory. I’m good at protecting my autonomy. Fighting for it. But this? How can I excel at something I have no roadmap for?
“This would make a great nursery,” the agent adds lightly, already flipping pages on her tablet.
I’m not sure if I hate the process, or the idea of finding a space I will have to share with someone.
It makes no sense. We’ve been living together, and well… it scares me, but it hasn’t been bad. It’s been the opposite. I don’t know how to reconcile that.
You became dangerous to everything I thought kept me alive. But I don’t regret a moment of it.
That’s what Liam told me. Can I allow him to do the same to me? All these questions are pissing me off. The indecisiveness of it is infuriating. It makes me vulnerable, and that is not acceptable.
I study the view as if it was the most important feature, the agent droning somewhere in the background.
Liam slides behind me. “Fuck, she is too chirpy. Just say the word, and I will replace her.”
His breath on my neck is distracting. And comforting.
And it hits me. He’s being patient. Not pressuring. Not forcing. Not deciding for me. But that clouds my judgment.
He is doing everything right… and I’m waiting for him to fuck up and finally prove that I need to do this alone.
