Page 83 of Tight End

With a grunt, I grab her hands, pulling her back to me. “Damn right we are.” I shake my head before meeting her gaze. “If you need to put a label on us, then do it. If you needme to propose, I will. I don’t care what I have to call you so long as you’re mine.”

Pink crawls up her neck, and she pulls her bottom lip into her mouth, biting down on the pillowy flesh. “I thinkgirlfriendwill be just fine. Although I’m pretty sure my dad is already planning our wedding.”

“You sure? You don’t want me to get down on one knee in the middle of this lettuce pile and propose?”

She lets out a small laugh but nods. “I’m sure. I just ... you know, I wanted to make sure I wasn’t reading too much into anything.”

I have half a mind to follow through and drop down with the discarded salad to prove exactly how serious I am, but she’d definitely say no. And then I’d look like a jackass. Plus, I’m man enough to admit it would be a terrible idea. Not because June isn’t the one, but because it’s way too soon. I’m pretty sure we need to spend at least a few weeks together before I start ring shopping.

She and Oliver are in my home, and that’s good enough. For now.

So I reluctantly let her finish cutting the peppers while I clean up the mess on the floor and counters, making sure to throw all the ripped-up lettuce in the trash.

“Oh, before I forget to mention it.” June glances over at me. “My apartment manager called me today, and they think my place should be ready for Oliver and me to move back in by the end of the week. He thinks next Wednesday at the latest.”

Fuck.

Is it wrong I was hoping her apartment would stay flooded forever? That maybe it was damaged beyond repair and she’d have no choice but to stay here with me?

Maybe I could move up the timeline on the ring shopping and sway her with the promise of a long engagement. Sure, the long engagement part is one thing I won’t follow through on, but she doesn’t have to know that. Once she’s wearing my ring, all bets would be off.

Now that I’ve had them here, I don’t want them to leave. This arrangement needs to stay permanent, and I’m not afraid to fight dirty to get my way.

“Obviously I’ll have to replace all my furniture, but I should be getting the check from my rental insurance soon.”

Yeah, furniture. How can I make that process as difficult as possible? Obviously I can’t destroy all the furniture in Nashville, right?

Right?

FORTY

June

I’m notsure whether it was his quasi marriage proposal or the news about my apartment, but Ryan’s been quiet most of the night. He was a little on edge when he walked in and saw the mess Oliver made in the kitchen, but now it seems so much worse.

Not that I can blame him.

After losing his wife so suddenly, I’m sure the thought of being married again is giving him pause. That’s not something you get over quickly, if ever. Putting himself back in that situation is probably scary. And if it was my apartment ... maybe he’s ready for his own space back. Maybe we’ve been here a little too long. Hedidlook a bit horrified when he walked in and saw the lettuce all over the place.

That makes sense. I bet that’s it.

He needs his privacy back. Or at least what he can get. Oliver will still be spending the night here, and me? I’m not sure what “moving back” means.

Will he want me to spend the night? Will he be willing to come to my apartment?

My gaze flicks to Ryan, sitting on the other side of Oliver’s bed, readingAttack of the Underwear Dragon. His voice has dropped down, his tone soothing, and Oliver is almost asleep. It’s the quiet moments like this that make me so grateful I found Ryan after these past few years.

I’m going to miss this.

There’s a slight ache in the center of my chest, and I resist the urge to rub it. Once we’re back home, everything will change. Ryan will still be involved in our lives, but it won’t be the same. He won’t be there every day to read Oliver his stories, to play dinosaurs. I won’t get to kiss him whenever I want.

I’ve been here such a short time, but I’ve gotten used to being here with him.

“You ready to go back downstairs?” Ryan whispers, interrupting my thoughts.

I blink, realizing I’ve been staring at a random spot on the wall for what’s likely been several minutes now. How do I know? The book is already back on the shelf, and Ryan is standing next to the bed, his head cocked to the side as he studies me. Oops.

I nod, give Oliver a quick good-night kiss, and quietly follow Ryan downstairs.

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