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“Alice B Toklas was American-born and part of the Parisian avant-garde.”

“Ah, there’s France.” He let his head drop back onto my chest. “I was joking, by the way.”

“They met on Toklas’ first day in Paris. 1907, I think. I’d have to check the month.”

“Please don’t. Let’s just say it’s one of twelve and leave it at that.”

“They formed an instant connection. Toklas later described Stein as a ‘golden presence.’”

“Sweet.”

“Anyway, they moved in together soon after, forming a deep and intellectual bond that lasted for four decades until Stein died.”

Baxter laughed, my chest vibrating with it. “All that just to suggest moving in together.”

“You could’ve just read my mind and saved me the trouble.”

“Oh no.” He propped himself up on one elbow. “Don’t rely on that as your get-out clause to avoid communicating.” He climbed out of bed, my eyes automatically devouring the lean lines of his body. “Sometimes I’m tired. Sometimes I want a break. Sometimes I want to pretend I’m like everyone else.” He paused in the doorway. “Aren’t you going to ask me what my answer is?”

“Yes… no… maybe.”

He turned fully, arms crossed. I held his gaze without letting it drop lower; it took an enormous amount of willpower. “My answer is… yes… no… maybe.”

I sighed. “I deserved that.”

“You did.”

He returned a few minutes later with a damp cloth. “I assume we’d move into your place?”

“I have a mortgage. It would make sense.”

He climbed back into bed, leaning against the headboard. “I like furniture. Beyond a sofa and a bed.”

“We’ll get some. I had some before Carl.”

“Your sister won’t like it.”

“My sister doesn’t have to live with you. She’ll come around. She’s only protective because of my past poor decisions.”

Baxter held my gaze. “How do you know asking me to live with you isn’t another one?”

“It isn’t,” I said without hesitation.

“How do you know?”

“I just do.”

He rolled his eyes. “What if I can’t tolerate historical stories from dawn to dusk?”

“You love them. You pretend you don’t, but you’re always the one asking for them. Don’t think I haven’t noticed that.”

“What if I don’t want all the decor based on the colors of the French flag?”

“That’s red, white, and blue. There’s nothing wrong with those colors.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“For how long?”

Baxter grew serious. “Maybe we should make sure there is a future first before we plan stuff. It’s no good me saying yes to living with you if Owen’s determined I won’t be around to live anywhere.”

It was a fair point that I couldn’t really argue with. Tomorrow, at least, we’d be safe behind those high walls.