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I snort. “I wish. No, a friend of mine from Chicago helped me find it.”
“Is she in real estate?”
“He, and yes.”
He falls silent again after that, and we approach the door. I take the steps one at a time, and when I reach the top, I spin and gasp. Not expecting him to be standing right behind me.
My hands land on my racing heart. “Shit. You scared me.”
“Sorry.”
But he doesn’t move.
I slip his jacket off and hand it to him.
“Thanks for letting me borrow this.”
He smiles. “Any time.”
I stand there awkwardly for a minute before grabbing the keys from my bag and opening the door. If I wasn’t in the headspace of figuring out if I want to play house and take on a daughter or if I want children, then asking him in would have been a guarantee, but using my head this time, I say, “Thanks for walking me home.”
“Of course. I’ll see you at the next meeting?”
“You will.”
He kisses my cheek, and my eyes flutter from his soft, warm lips. It was unexpected, but so nice. “Goodnight,Bella,” he whispers.
“Goodnight,” I say and watch him take the steps down.
“Oh, so will you respond if I text you again?” he asks, spinning around and pulling his phone out of his pocket with a smirk.
“Is that a good idea?”
“Of course, it is.” He winks.
I roll my eyes, laughing. “Trust you to say that. Fine.”
He beams, and I know it was the right thing to do. I may not have given him an answer he wanted tonight, but at least me agreeing to answer his texts again has made him happy.
As I turn and open my door, he stands there, unmoving, and I know he’s waiting for me to go in first. Closing the door behind me, I watch him through the peephole as he smiles and walks away, staring down at his phone. When he’s out of sight, I turn and rest my back against the door, touching the cheek he pressed a warm kiss on, and a large sigh slips past my lips.
My phone chimes, and I can’t help but break out into a stupidly big fat smile. Grabbing it out of my bag, I open it to see his number, quickly reading it.
Marc:My jacket smells like you now. I don’t think I’ll wash it…ever. Goodnight x
I clutch the phone to my chest and push off the door, needing a cold shower. He stirs too many feelings inside of me, one of them beating wildly under my hand.
“Have you ever had pickles in ice cream?”
“Ava, please tell me you’re not eating that shit?” I say, sitting on the couch.
“It’s amazing. You ought to try it.”
“I’ll pass. It sounds like a pregnancy craving, and I’m sure soon you’ll never want to see a pickle or ice cream again.”
“Not true.”
“Mark my words.”
