Chapter 21 314 days before the breakup #3
“I guess I just thought Cole and I would be further along by now,” I admitted, my voice low.
“And it’s not even about a ring or anything.
I just—I don’t know.” I grabbed another Goldfish, mostly to avoid looking directly at him.
“My mom asked us at IKEA a while back why Cole and I aren’t moving in together.
Just casually in between throw pillows and rugs.
I can’t stop thinking about it. Does everyone else see something I don’t? ”
Lucas cracked his knuckles, then tapped the side of his ginger ale bottle. “Your mom’s allowed to ask annoying questions. That’s her job. But just because she asks doesn’t mean something’s wrong.”
I stayed quiet for a second, letting his words settle while I turned the cracker over in my hand.
“You and Cole don’t have to move in together to prove anything. You’re not on anyone else’s clock,” he added.
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. “I know. Sometimes it feels like we’re the only ones not moving.”
Lucas shrugged. “Standing still isn’t the same thing as going nowhere.”
That made me look up.
He gave a half smile, like he didn’t mean to be that insightful. “If you’re happy, cool. If you’re not, figure it out. But don’t let one comment convince you that your entire relationship is broken.”
I nodded. Then, after a beat, I tilted my head and said quietly, “Off the record?”
He looked over, eyebrows lifted. “Go for it.”
“I don’t know if I’m happy,” I admitted. “And I hate saying that out loud because it makes it feel real.”
Lucas didn’t say anything right away. Just passed me a handful of Goldfish. But I felt his answer in the silence. “This feels like freshman year again,” he said finally.
I raised an eyebrow. “How so?”
He grinned. “You. Sitting in a dorm hallway with a bag of Goldfish and having a whole identity crisis about your long-distance boyfriend.”
I laughed. “Oh my god, I forgot about that.”
“You said, and I quote, ‘I think I want to break up with him, but I feel bad because he just got me a Spotify Premium account.’”
I groaned, covering my face. “That was a very real moral dilemma!”
Lucas chuckled. “Off the record, I think you already knew it was over. You just needed someone to say it out loud.”
My smile faltered for half a second before I recovered. “Okay, therapist.”
He held up his hands in surrender. “Just saying. History has a funny way of repeating itself.”
I tried to laugh it off, tossing a Goldfish at him. “Whatever. At least I wasn’t the one in salmon shorts and Sperrys any time the forecast cracked sixty-five.”
“They were on trend!”
“Preppy fisherman isn’t a trend. It’s a cry for help.”
He grinned. “Says the girl who during truth or dare once said her favorite position was—”
“Oh my god! Let me live,” I cut in quickly. “Some of us just like a classic.”
He paused. Raised an eyebrow. “I mean, no complaints. And as long as you don’t have any complaints…”
I blinked, and a laugh burst out of me at his audacity. “No comment. And put a shirt on.”
He choked on his ginger ale, his laughter spraying it across the counter. Suddenly the kitchen was filled with our laughter, tears running down our eyes, Lucas’s abs flexing with each bout (not that I was noticing his abs but, oh, whatever).
“You’re the worst,” I muttered, flushing as I crumpled the Goldfish bag. “I’ve missed this.”
He smiled, genuine and warm. “Me too.”
* * *
The next morning, Cole’s gentle touch on my cheek woke me up.
“Let’s get a dog.”
I groaned into the pillow. “What?”
“It’s almost eight,” he said, like that explained anything at all. “And I’m serious. I’ve been thinking about it—we should get a dog.”
I rolled over, squinting at him. “Why are we talking about this right now? My head still tastes like champagne.”
He smiled softly, the same way he did when he knew he was catching me off guard. “I don’t know. It just feels like the right next step, doesn’t it? We already spend most nights together. A dog would be fun. Ours.”
I blinked. “Is this because Tucker proposed?”
“No,” he said quickly. Too quickly. “It’s just been on my mind.
” He paused, his hand brushing a strand of hair from my face.
“I know IKEA got weird. And I should’ve brought it up before your mom did, but I didn’t want to rush anything.
We’re not behind, Ains. We’re just doing things at our own pace. This is still right.”
I stared at the ceiling, my heart doing that slow, uncertain thud it does when something feels almost right but not quite.
Cole continued. “Think of it as a soft launch into cohabitation.”
I was still groggy, still not sure what to make of this—if it was about love or logistics. But I loved dogs. And I loved Cole. And I wanted this to feel like a solution, even if something inside me knew it wasn’t.
“Can we get a wiener dog?” I murmured.
He smiled. “We can get whatever kind of dog you want.”
I nodded, pressing my face back into the pillow. “Okay.”
But even as I said it, I felt that knot in my chest twist just a little tighter.