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“But-but, we’ve turned the guest bedrooms into home offices. We don’t have a spare room.”
“That’s fine. I can use the couch.” He winks at me.Winks. I must not be the only one going crazy, after all. He’s insane. Certifiable. Why would he want to crash on my couch when he could be sleeping on a plush hotel bed?
“Fine, whatever.” I turn away, holding my head up as I walk into the building.
“How long have you been feeling the babies move?” Ezra asks as we get into the elevator. Is he not going to talk about the kiss? Fine, that’s okay with me. I don’t want to talk about it, either.
“Maybe a week. At first, I wasn’t sure if that’s what it was; it just felt like little butterfly flutters. But yesterday is when I was sure, and you feeling them today made it even that much more real.”
“It was really great.” He smiles, and I nod because he’s right. It was.
“We’re home!” I call out as we walk into our penthouse. We left Mom’s place right after Ella, so she’s probably only a couple of minutes ahead of us. I come to a halt when I see she isn’t alone. “Lucas?”
“We need to talk,” Ella says, grabbing my hand and dragging me into her bedroom.
“What’s going on? Why is Lucas here?” Lucas Hosea is Ella’s ex. They were together for six months before we realized that the jerk was with her because of her last name. Or more accurately because of her money. “I told you that if I ever saw him again, I’d punch him in the throat.”
He’d take her on dates to expensive restaurants and pretend he forgot his wallet. There was even an occasion when heconcocted an elaborate story about getting robbed right before coming to dinner with Ella and me.
Who comes to dinner with their girlfriend’s sister after getting robbed? One would think they’d be more concerned about their stolen items than a $25 cocktail.
“What can I do? I got home, and he was sitting in the lobby looking so miserable.” Ella bites her nails anxiously.
“What does he want?”
“He said he paid the deposit for a new apartment last week, but it turns out that the person he paid to is a con artist, so he ended up losing his money. Now he has no place to stay and no money.”
“That’s a lie and you know it.” I cross my arms over my chest as I glare at her. I would find it easier to believe the story if it was the other way around.
“But what if it isn’t? I would have put a victim out on the street.”
“First of all, none of this is any of our business. Who cares if he’s on the streets?” Good riddance if you ask me. “You guys broke up. I won’t be surprised if this is a scheme on his part to get back together with you.”
“You don’t have to worry about me. I’m not getting back together with him. The arrangement is only for tonight, I promise.” She places her hands up palms clasped together. “If he still doesn’t have a place tomorrow, then it really won’t be my business. We’ll say goodbye and that’s it. I already told him that I’m only putting up with him for tonight, so he’ll have to call his friends.”
“And if we wake up tomorrow with all our things gone?”
“No way, he’s not a petty thief. Besides, he’s sleeping on the couch in the living room. We’ll just lock every other door except the bathroom. He can’t exactly run away with the furniture, can he?”
I sigh in resignation, “Fine, whatever.” Ella gives me a tight hug and flounces out of the room. Only then do I realize the hiccup in this new development.
If Lucas takes the couch, then where will Ezra sleep?
CHAPTER 22
CHARLIE
“It’s because there’s no other place for you to sleep now that Lucas is here. The home offices only have single chairs, and it wouldn’t be comfortable to sleep on the floor,” I explain as I lead Ezra into my bedroom.
He doesn’t say a word. I just hover at the door while he takes in my room. He says the cottage is his sanctuary and, well, this is mine. I’ve expressed myself in every way I can think of, so having him see it all feels more intimate than everything else we’ve done. It’s like inviting him into my head, and it makes me feel a little vulnerable. I bite my bottom lip nervously. Okay, a lot vulnerable.
He just stands in the middle of the room, his head tilted back while he examines the mural painted on my ceiling. I feel exposed to him right now, but I can’t drag my eyes off him. He’s a truly beautiful man. I can’t say I’m disappointed that I’m having babies with his genetics. I watch his corded throat–his Adam’s apple protruding with his head back– and catch a glimpse of a flame tattoo peaks out of the collar of his shirt. Maybe tonight I’ll get a chance to see his tattoos again… strictly to admire the artwork, like he’s doing now. Nothing else, I remind myself.
“You have a beautiful room. I love what you did with the ceiling,” he finally says. I lift my head up to study it with him. The lighting is dim so the galactic ceiling can really shine through courtesy of the phosphorescent paint. The stars and soft lighting glow in his eyes, reflecting the constellations back at me.
I find myself lost for words as I really look into the depths of his ice cold gaze, which only warms once he glances down at me. Tonight I realized that his smiles have been so genuine lately–like he’s truly happy for once–but I still see the hint of pain in their depths.
“It’s as if I’m staring at a country sky,” he continues.
