“With us,” he says.
I frown.
“With…?”
Mark glances towards the floorboards.
“Heath would be furious if I excluded him.”
I can’t help but smile.
It fades almost immediately under the weight of what he is offering.
I look back at him.
“I don’t know how long flat hunting takes.”
“Then take your time.”
His answer is immediate.
So immediate that I nearly forget to breathe.
Mark squeezes my hand once.
“I’ve got plenty of space,” he says. “And if at any point it all gets too much, you can banish me to Whitstable for a few days.”
I let out a breath that might almost be a laugh.
“That seems unfair. Exiling the homeowner.”
“I’m adaptable.”
I study him.
The ease with which he says this.
As if the idea of me being there is not an imposition but something he has already settled into.
A thought occurs.
Half practical. Half not.
“Or,” I say slowly, “I could rent the Whitstable cottage from you for a while.”
Mark’s expression changes at once.
A small crease appearing between his brows.
“No.”
I blink.
“No?”
“No rent,” he says. “And no moving you into a different house to keep this at arm’s length.”
I stare at him.
