Page 12 of No Greater Oblivion

He lifts his head to say something to the construction worker standing across from him. He must see me because he does a sharp double take in my direction and then addresses the rest of the men surrounding the table. “Give us the room, please.”

The room clears out and I make my way to him.

“The penthouse looks incredible. I see you took my advice and chose an open concept.”

“I had to. You have this thing where you’re right about everything—it’s infuriating,” he quips. “All those walls would’ve defeated the purpose of having windows that are thirty-feet high. It wouldn’t have let any light in. Now the kitchen is back there,” he points with his pencil. “And the dining space is on the other side of the floor. The only thing separating it from the living room is the main foyer but movement within the apartment is seamless. You can walk in a full circle without having to open a single door.”

“And the upstairs bedrooms?”

“All facing the river, like you suggested.”

I can’t help but smile. “You know, I don’t recall ever being paid for my work.”

Rian levels me with a steady gaze. He drops his pencil and slips a free arm around my waist, using his other hand to tip up my chin. I hold my breath in anticipation of his kiss. The gentle pressure of his lips against mine sends my nerves into a frenzy and when his tongue pushes into my mouth, exploring with delicate strokes, my resolve weakens. I’d come here with the intention of setting boundaries on our, as of yet, nameless relationship. Instead I’m tempted to ask if any of the rooms upstairs are furnished yet.

He pulls away and we both take a moment to catch our breath. A few seconds pass and his arm drops from around my waist. Rian takes my hands in both of his and leans against the table for support.

“I need you to be serious for a moment. None of your smartass commentary.”

“Stop objectifying my ass. It’s smart and hot.”

He heaves a heavy sigh.

“Is this about what you asked me last week?”

Rian’s eyes are light and sky blue when he looks at me. “I was thinking. Here.”

“Here?”

“Why not? You practically designed the place.”

I try to picture it. The kind of furniture I’d commission for the living room, the color palette I’d choose for our bedroom, the bowls and plates I’d fill the cabinets with. I picture an entire year in this apartment: his birthday in March, Easter in April, my birthday in July. We’d have barbeques on the outdoor deck, Thanksgiving dinner by the fireplace, and a Christmas tree by the main stairs. All things I’ve had and experienced with someone else and whose memories now taint any future happiness I try imagining for myself.

“You won’t even commit to calling me your girlfriend and you expect me to change area codes for you?”

“I’d be more incentivized to commit if my girlfriend moved in with me.”

My voice drops to a whisper. “The last time I moved in with someone, it didn’t end well.”

He sighs and tucks a loose wave of hair behind my ear. “If I knew who he was, I’d kill him.”

“You promised me you’d never look.”

“And I’m very, very tempted to break that promise. But it’ll just push you further away.”

“You push me away, Rian. How much longer do you expect me to put up with this arrangement?” I ask. “I was fine with the way we were before until you complicated things by asking me to move in with you. And I won’t make another life-changing decision until I know this is serious. I don’t trust you.”

“But I’m supposed to trust you?” he parries back. “You want exclusivity and commitment while you’re still emotionally and financially entangled with another man?”

My lips purse. “That’s different.”

“How is it different?”

I struggle for a comeback so I blurt the first thing that comes to mind. “It just is.”

“You’re not being fair, Dahlia,” he says. “I can’t imagine hurting a woman so deeply that the next time happiness was within her reach, she’d self-destruct the way you do every time I get too close.”

“Yes, well…” I shift uncomfortably. “To be fair, I think we did a number on each other.”