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“That’s because you aren’t the one getting stuck with needles,” she told him.
“Well, thank God,” he said, adding an exaggerated eye roll for effect. “I’m a crier.”
“You know, I can see that about you,” she said with a laugh. “You’ve got that look about you.”
He lifted a brow at her. “I look like a crybaby?”
“You look…sensitive.”
That startled a laugh out of him. “Well, I’ve got to say, that’s the first time anyone’s ever told me that.”
“That’s because you keep your sensitive side hidden behind all that charm.”
She said it as a joke, but again, there was something about the look in her eye that told him she saw more than he wanted her to. More than he wanted anyone to. His whole life he’d been the joker, the charmer, the easygoing one who countered Marc’s intensity. He’d been the one who defused their father’s temper when things started to go bad and the one who stepped between him and Marc when things did go bad. And he did it all with a smile.
He’d spent years honing the persona, years perfecting it until everyone who knew him believed he was that guy. Hell, most of the time he believed it himself. The idea that Desi saw through the mask, that she saw what no one else had ever bothered to look for, rocked him to his core.
Which was the only excuse he had for what happened next.
From that moment in the park, when he’d decided definitively what he wanted, he’d been working toward this moment. Everything he’d done since then had been geared toward making Desi trust him, geared toward making her want to go along with his suggestion. He’d even had a plan about how to broach the idea.
But as he sat here, reeling from what should have been a simple throwaway observation but somehow wasn’t, he wanted nothing so much as to change the subject. To get the focus off him. So he blurted out the first thing that came to mind, not caring—until it was too late—that doing so blew his whole plan sky high.
“I want you to move in with me,” he told her straight out, not even bothering to cushion the blow.
“Move in with you?” She looked at him as if he was crazy. “You can’t be serious.”
“I’m totally serious.”
“You aren’t.”
He waited until the waiter stopped by to freshen their waters and drop off dessert before he said, “I am.” Then he reached over and forked up a bite of cheesecake and held it out to her.
She didn’t take it right away. Instead, she studied him and studied the bite of cheesecake while the second hand wound its way around his watch.
“Maybe you are,” she finally said, leaning forward to take the bite off his fork. “But you shouldn’t be. We don’t even know each other.”
She’d gotten a tiny dab of whipped cream on his very favorite part of her upper lip and he wanted nothing more than to lean forward and lick it off. The only thing holding him back was the fact that he knew it wouldn’t score him any points right now—and it sure as hell wouldn’t help him convince her that he wasn’t angling for a roommate-with-benefits relationship…
“But it makes perfect sense. What if something happens and you need me—”
“I didn’t realize you were a doctor.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“No, but if I need you, I can call you.” She held up her phone. “That’s what these really nifty smartphones are for. That is, of course, provided you actually pick up this time.”
She said it as if it was a joke, but there was an underlying bite to it that he’d have to be an idiot to miss. “Exactly my point. If we were living together, you wouldn’t have to call me. I’d just be there.”
She sighed heavily, then said, “Nic, look, I know this whole baby thing has thrown you for a loop today. Believe me, I get that. I’ve known for months and it still freaks me out. But that doesn’t mean we have to do anything crazy. I understand that this is your gut reaction. But why don’t you take a few days and really think about it. Make sure being involved is what you really want—”
“It is what I want. I’m not the kind of guy who runs from his responsibilities, Desi.”
“But see, that shouldn
’t be why you decide to stick around. Only because the baby is your responsibility. You should be a part of his life because you want to be, not because you feel like you have to be.”
“Now you’re twisting my words. Of course I want to be a part of his life—”
