He glances back at me so quickly I almost miss it. “Thank you,” he grits out.
Sure, I’m owed a thank-you—for even considering this, let alone agreeing—but I wasn’t expecting one from him.
I’m frozen in place as he disappears. He mumbles something to Bertie on his way out, and then the main door shuts behind him with a loud click.
I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this.
My bedroom door swings open, startling me and sending my heart racing.
With one hand encased in an oven mitt, Bertie holds the entire pan of brownies out. In her other hand, she holds up two forks.
“Spill everything.” She plops onto my bed and offers one of the forks to me.
Quickly, I spin an elaborate story. A story that’s far too easy to dream up, considering Daire and I have a shared past. It only serves to prove his point that I’m the only one who can do this for him.
3
DAIRE
“This is beautiful,”Rosie says, taking in the open living space on the second floor of the townhouse. It’s the third place we’ve looked at today. The tenth this week. “It’s so open. Don’t you think?” She turns to me, brows lifted and wearing a tentative smile.
I have to give her credit, she’s trying.
“Mhm.” I jerk my head in a nod.
“Don’t forget to check out the deck,” Lizzie, our realtor singsongs. “It’s beautiful. Has a pergola too.”
We take the stairs up to the top floorand check out the rooms.
“This one would be great for Junior, don’t you think?” Rosie elbows me as she peeks into the large bedroom that looks out at the park behind the row of townhomes. Since I still don’t even know my son’s name, she’s taken to calling him Junior.
“Yeah.”
With a chest-heaving sigh, she cranes her neck, searching for Lizzie. When she confirms she’s not within earshot, she pulls me into the room and shuts the door.
“Why do you act likeI’mthe one dragging you into this? Might I remind you, I’m the one helpingyouout? I actually enjoy living in the dorms with Bertie, but here I am, prepping to move out. Again, because I’m helpingyou.”
I blow out a breath. My attitude is shit, and that’s unfair to her. This isn’t just a lot of change for me, but for her as well.
“I’m sorry.”
Her jaw drops, but it only takes a heartbeat for that expression to turn into a sly grin. Then she slow claps. “Wow, mark this down in the history books. Daire Hendrickscanapologize.”
“Shut up,” I grumble.
She sucks in a breath like she’s ready to go on, but instead, she swallows down her next comment and squares her shoulders. “Do you like any of the places we’ve looked at?”
Rubbing at my jaw, I mutter, “They’re okay, I guess.”
With a frustrated groan, she drops her head back. When she straightens, several emotions flicker over her face—annoyance, exhaustion, resolve.
“All right, what are you looking for that these places are missing?”
I shrug, swallowing back my thoughts.
“Daire.” She covers her face. “Use your big boy words. Give me something to work with.”
There’s a knock on the door then, and Lizzie cracks it open. “Is everything okay in here?”