Chapter 5 Under One Roof #2
"You can take whichever bedroom you want."
Evan glanced at him.
"Any bedroom?"
"Any."
"Even yours?"
Nathaniel's eyebrows lifted.
"That would defeat the purpose of having separate bedrooms."
Evan smiled.
"I was testing you."
"I assumed you were."
A housekeeper appeared briefly to welcome Evan, but Nathaniel had already made it clear that Evan's privacy mattered. She showed him where everything was before leaving them alone.
Evan carried his bags upstairs.
Nathaniel followed only far enough to point out the guest wing.
"This room has its own bathroom. The study is across the hall. There's another sitting room downstairs if you want somewhere quiet."
"You've thought this through."
"I had time."
Evan placed his backpack on the bed.
"I expected you to prepare some kind of schedule."
Nathaniel looked genuinely confused.
"What schedule?"
"When I should eat, sleep, work, rest, attend appointments."
Nathaniel's expression softened.
"I told you this isn't a contract."
Evan nodded.
"I know."
He did know.
That was what made the situation harder.
Nathaniel was not treating him like a dependent. He wasn't monitoring him. He wasn't telling him what to do.
He was simply making space for him.
And Evan wasn't sure what to do with that kind of kindness.
The first few days were strangely ordinary.
Evan continued working.
He drove into the city when he needed to and worked from the residence when he didn't. He kept his apartment, his accounts, his routines, and his independence exactly as promised.
Nathaniel never questioned where he was going.
He didn't ask for his schedule.
He didn't demand updates.
If anything, Nathaniel seemed almost excessively respectful of Evan's boundaries.
It should have made living together easier.
Instead, it made Evan notice him more.
At first, Evan only noticed small things.
Nathaniel woke early.
Very early.
Every morning, he was already in the kitchen before Evan came downstairs.
The first morning Evan found him there, Nathaniel was standing beside the counter in a dark shirt with the sleeves rolled to his forearms, reading something on his tablet while coffee brewed nearby.
Evan stopped at the doorway.
"You cook?"
Nathaniel looked up.
"Sometimes."
"That's not what I asked."
"I can cook."
Evan looked at the simple breakfast on the counter.
Eggs, toast, fruit, and coffee.
"You made all of that?"
"Yes."
"For yourself?"
"Mostly."
Evan walked closer.
Nathaniel glanced at him.
"I made enough for two."
Evan looked at the second plate.
"You were expecting me?"
"I didn't know when you would wake up."
"Yet you made breakfast anyway."
Nathaniel shrugged.
"It wasn't difficult."
Evan sat down.
He tried not to think about how domestic the scene felt.
There was something almost intimate about sharing breakfast in a quiet kitchen while sunlight entered through the windows.
Neither of them talked about the pregnancy.
They talked about work instead.
Evan told Nathaniel about a difficult project he had been dealing with. Nathaniel listened without interrupting and asked thoughtful questions.
Evan discovered that Nathaniel remembered details.
Not just about business.
About him.
That afternoon, Evan mentioned that he preferred tea when his stomach felt unsettled.
The next morning, there was a box of the same tea beside the kettle.
Nathaniel didn't mention buying it.
Evan did.
"You bought this."
Nathaniel looked up from his newspaper.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"You said you liked it."
Evan stared at him.
"You remembered?"
Nathaniel frowned.
"Of course."
Something warm moved through Evan's chest.
He looked away before Nathaniel could see how much the answer affected him.
That became the problem.
Nathaniel kept doing things that made it difficult to maintain emotional distance.
He never made grand gestures.
He simply noticed things.
When Evan worked late, Nathaniel left a plate covered in the refrigerator with a note telling him to eat before going to bed.
When Evan complained that one of the upstairs windows let in too much morning light, Nathaniel had heavier curtains installed without making a production of it.
When Evan mentioned that the stairs were becoming uncomfortable on days when he felt tired, Nathaniel quietly arranged for a small sitting area to be added near the bedroom.
None of it felt controlling.
It felt considerate.
And Evan was beginning to realize that was far more dangerous.
One evening, Evan came downstairs and found Nathaniel in the living room.
The lights were low.
A book was open on the table beside him.
Nathaniel looked up.
"Can't sleep?"
"No."
"Feeling sick?"
"A little."
Nathaniel closed the book.
"Do you need anything?"
"No."
He started to stand.
Evan stopped him.
"You don't have to leave."
Nathaniel paused.
"I wasn't going to."
Evan sat on the opposite end of the sofa.
For a while, they simply sat there.
Eventually, Evan asked, "Do you ever relax?"
Nathaniel looked amused.
"Occasionally."
"I've never seen it."
"This is me relaxing."
"Reading a business report?"
Nathaniel looked at the book.
"It's not a business report."
"What is it?"
"A history book."
Evan smiled.
"That's somehow worse."
Nathaniel laughed.
The sound surprised Evan.
He had heard Nathaniel laugh before, but rarely.
Without the usual restraint, Nathaniel looked younger.
Not young.
Just less guarded.
They talked until after midnight.
Not about the baby.
Not about Richard.
Not about the complicated relationship between them.
They talked about childhood memories, places they wanted to visit, books they had read, and mistakes they had made.
Evan learned that Nathaniel hated crowded beaches but loved quiet mountain towns.
Nathaniel learned that Evan had once wanted to become an architect before deciding he preferred his current career.
At some point, Evan realized they had been talking for nearly three hours.
He looked at the clock.
"It's late."
Nathaniel nodded.
"You should sleep."
"I know."
Neither moved.
Evan felt the attraction between them like a quiet current.
It hadn't disappeared simply because they were living together.
If anything, it had become harder to ignore.
Every shared breakfast made it stronger.
Every late-night conversation made it deeper.
Every accidental brush of hands made Evan remember the kiss they had tried to bury.
But there was something else now.
Trust.
Evan didn't want to confuse that with permission.
He didn't want Nathaniel to assume that because they were expecting a child, Nathaniel had some automatic right to control his choices.
One morning, that boundary was tested.
Evan had planned to spend the afternoon at his apartment.
He mentioned it casually over breakfast.
Nathaniel looked up.
"You're going alone?"
Evan paused.
"Yes."
"How long will you be there?"
Evan narrowed his eyes.
"Why?"
"I was only asking."
"You sounded like you were checking."
Nathaniel immediately set down his coffee.
"I'm not."
"Good."
Nathaniel studied him.
"I worry."
"I know."
"But worrying doesn't mean I get to decide where you go."
Evan relaxed slightly.
"Exactly."
Nathaniel nodded.
"You can go wherever you want."
Evan smiled.
"Thank you."
Nathaniel looked almost offended.
"You don't have to thank me for that."
"I know."
Evan finished his breakfast.
Then he looked at Nathaniel.
"But I need you to understand something."
"I do."
"I agreed to live here because I trust you. I didn't agree to give up my life."
Nathaniel's expression became serious.
"I would never ask you to."
"And the pregnancy can't become a reason for you to make every decision for me."
"I know."
"If I'm tired, I'll rest. If I need help, I'll ask."
Nathaniel nodded.
"All right."
Evan smiled.
"Good."
The conversation should have ended there.
Instead, Nathaniel reached across the table and briefly touched Evan's hand.
It was an innocent gesture.
It still sent warmth through Evan's entire body.
Their eyes met.
Neither moved.
For a few seconds, the kitchen seemed too quiet.
Nathaniel's thumb rested against Evan's knuckles.
Then he withdrew his hand.
Evan swallowed.
This was becoming impossible.
The house was supposed to be temporary.
The arrangement was supposed to be practical.
Instead, every day under the same roof was revealing another side of Nathaniel.
The man who remembered his tea.
The man who made breakfast.
The man who stayed awake when Evan couldn't sleep.
The man who listened when Evan needed to talk.
The man who could have used his wealth and influence to control the situation but deliberately chose not to.
And Nathaniel was discovering things about Evan too.
He saw that Evan didn't need rescuing.
He saw Evan managing his work, keeping his finances separate, making his own decisions, and refusing to let pregnancy define him.
He saw the strength beneath Evan's stubbornness.
That mattered.
Evan knew it mattered because Nathaniel no longer looked at him as though he were something fragile that had accidentally entered his life.
He looked at him like an equal.
That was what made Evan's heart beat faster.
One evening, Evan stood in the hallway outside his bedroom and watched Nathaniel walk toward his own room.
"Nathaniel."
He stopped.
"Yes?"
Evan almost said something.
He almost told him that living together was making everything harder.
That every day he wanted him a little more.
That he was beginning to imagine what it might feel like if this house stopped being Nathaniel's and became theirs.
Instead, he shook his head.
"Good night."
Nathaniel looked at him for a moment.
"Good night, Evan."
Nathaniel walked away.
Evan remained in the hallway.
The attraction between them had never disappeared.
Now it had something else wrapped around it.
Familiarity.
Trust.
Domesticity.
And the dangerous realization that being under one roof with Nathaniel didn't feel temporary anymore.
It was beginning to feel like the beginning of something neither of them had planned.
Something Evan wanted badly enough to fight for, but never at the cost of himself.
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