Page 101 of The October Arrangement

Christian stared at me as I drank my beer.

“Who the fuck are you?” he asked.

“Can we just watch the game?”

“The game can wait,” he said.

“It literally can’t. That’s how live sports work.”

“I don’t give a shit. When did this happen?” he asked.

“Honestly, I don’t know,” I sighed. “It just happened. She moved in, drove me fucking insane, ignored half my rules, argued with me about everything, and started moving shit around.”

“And that made you fall in love?” His brow arched.

“I’m not finished,” I said. “I started expecting her to be there. The second I got home from work, I’d look for her. I know what coffee she drinks. I know when something’s bothering her before she tells me. And I know she talks to herself.” I smiled. “And when she’s not there, the penthouse feels⁠—”

“Feels what?” Christian asked.

“Empty.”

Christian didn’t say a word as he placed his hand on my shoulder.

“She was supposed to be temporary. That was the arrangement,” I said.

“Of course it was. You wrote rules for a grown woman because she was living in your penthouse.”

“They were reasonable rules,” I said.

“Was one of them don’t fall in love with me?”

“No.” I frowned.

“Should have been.” He grinned. “Does she know you’re in love with her?”

“No.”

“Why the hell not?” he asked.

“Because I haven’t told her,” I said.

“No shit. Does she love you?”

“I don’t know, Christian.”

“Come on, Simon.”

“Listen, I’d spent so much of my life avoiding the fucking thing that I’m not sure I trust myself to recognize it when it’s standing in front of me.”

“Then tell her,” he said.

“I don’t know if I can.”

“Why not?”

“Because, my whole life, I’ve looked at relationships and seen everything that can go wrong. My parents, and other people’s marriages. People who start out happy and end up fucking miserable.”

“You are not your mother or father, Simon.”