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RYAN
Why the fuckdid I just ask her that? I mean, yes, I’m curious. Who wouldn’t be in my situation? But I’m not sure that was the best moment to put her on the spot like that.
Holding up my hand, I try to wave off my question. “Sorry, forget I asked.”
Harper’s tongue darts out to swipe over her lips. “No, I get it.”
She puts her plate on the table although it still has several pieces on it. I probably gave her too much. It’s easy to forget that the average person doesn’t have the same appetite as I do.
After wiping her mouth with the napkin, she leans back on the couch, my sweatshirt swallowing her up. But damn it, she looks good in it. I’m not sure what it is, but there’s something about seeing her in my clothes, something primal that wants to pull her onto my lap this very second and demand a redo of our night together, one where she doesn’t leave at the end of it.
You don’t even know if she wants you, dipshit.
It’s not like I constantly have women throwing themselves at me left and right, but I can’t say I’m ignored by the female population either.
But then, Harper wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for our . . . situation.
Under normal circumstances, she might have never thought about me again.
What a depressing idea, especially after being in her company once more.
She’s a different Harper now, but I enjoy being with her just the same. It’s been a while since I hung out with a woman without sex in the cards. Probably years.
Not that I’d mind sex with her again. Not at all.
But nothing good will come from going down that road in my mind now. Somehow, I don’t think Harper would appreciate it if I suddenly rocked a boner during a normal conversation because I’ve got sex on my mind.
So I clear my throat and focus back on what we just talked about, noticing she’s been quiet while I went to la-la land. She’s pulled her legs up on the couch, encircling them with her arms. Sitting like this, she seems extra young.
Her gaze is focused on me. “A move across the country would be a big step.”
“It would be.”
I lean forward at the fact that she hasn’t outright said no, eager to see where this is going. Is there actually a chance she’d move here?
“Is that . . . is that something you’d want me to do?” She’s half hiding behind her knees now.
I want to yell “Yes,” but refrain from it. No need to appear like a total whacko job or desperate. “I can’t expect you to do that just for me, but I can’t deny that I’d love to have you and the baby close.”
She purses her lips and nods. “Fair enough.”
“Have you lived your whole life in New York?”
“Pretty much. I spent some time out here with my dad during school breaks, but other than that it’s always been New York.”
My heart skips a beat at how similar these scenarios could be for us if we stayed at opposite coasts. Would I only see my child during summer breaks? Only for a few weeks each year? I swallow the worry for now. It doesn’t help at all at this point.
“Do you like it? Living In New York?”
With her head tilted, she seems to think about it for a moment. “I’ve never really thought about it, to be honest. It’s just always been home. First throughout school, and then I met Ben, my now ex-husband, in my first year of college. We got married straight after we graduated, so there was never a time or reason not to live there.”
“I guess that makes sense.
“I like it there. It’s a busy place but has lots of fun things to do.”
“It does.” I hate to admit it, but she’s right. New York is a really cool place to live.
“Have you always lived here?”
