9. Chapter 9
Chapter 9
Adam
She smiles, her green eyes locked on mine. I’m close enough to touch her, the scent of her perfume teasing my senses in the most intoxicating way. I shake the thought away.
"You invite me over," I continue, raising an eyebrow. "You’re being somewhat nice to me, and you’re offering me dinner? You’re definitely up to something."
"You caught me," she murmurs. "It’s guilt. Living out of a suitcase can’t be convenient or comfortable."
"Okay," I say, not arguing with her.
"But you’re doing it anyway," she says, leaning in slightly. She’s so close I can count the freckles dusting her nose. "Why?" she asks, making me lose count.
"Because I care about you," I reply simply, my voice steady. "I care about your well-being, and you’re happy here."
"And that’s why I feel guilty," she admits softly.
"Katie, you don’t owe me anything," I say with a smile. "You’re my tenant. You pay me rent. Legally, this is your house for the next six months."
"Right," she says, glancing away. Was that a flicker of disappointment in her eyes?
"What do you want me to say?" I ask, hoping she'll be honest.
"I've been mean to you since the day we met," she begins, and when I don’t argue, she continues. "Why do you care about me? About my well-being, about my happiness?"
"Because you're your father's daughter," I say, reaching up to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear.
"Right," she says, but this time, she doesn’t look away. She holds my gaze, letting our eyes say more than words ever could. The moment stretches a beat too long, until I can’t take it anymore. I have two choices: look away or kiss her.
I look away.
"I have your offer on the condo ready to go," she says, shifting the conversation.
"Yeah," I reply, stepping back from her. "It's a good offer."
"I wanted to talk to you before I send it off," she says.
When she pauses, I glance back at her. God, she’s beautiful. I give her my full attention, waiting for her to continue.
"I’ve thought about it, and honestly, Adam, I can’t let you buy a whole new property just so I can stay in your house."
"I can't stay at the hotel for six months," I counter, shaking my head.
"I know," she says, and without hesitation, she adds, "If you’re still open to the idea, you can move into the spare bedroom. We’ll make it work."
“Slow down, Katie," I say, shaking my head. "I’m not your favorite person. Why on earth would you agree to have me stay with you?"
"Because I’m—"
"Wait!" I interrupt. "Before you answer that, Katie, I buy properties. It’s what I do. The Peterson condo needs work. I can fix it up and flip it in six months for a nice profit. Please, don’t do this unless you’re absolutely sure. A week ago, you could hardly stand the sight of me. I don’t want whatever you feel for me to turn into hate."
"I don’t hate you, Adam," she whispers, as if releasing something she’s been holding onto. Her words feel like a bridge being built between us, fragile yet steady. For a moment, neither of us speaks. We’re caught in the weight of the silence, unsure of where it will take us.
The space between us feels charged with things we're both feeling but neither is willing to voice. I see it in the way her lips part, as if she's on the verge of saying something but decides against it. I feel it in the way my chest tightens, words I’ll never say pressing against my ribcage.
"Katie," I begin, the truth burning in my chest, desperate to be let out. "I'm not the fourteen-year-old foster kid your father introduced you to. I don't need you to offer me a place to stay, or a free meal, or—" I pause, my voice tightening—"your pity."
"I know," she whispers, her eyes never leaving mine. "I know you've accomplished a lot these last fourteen years. My dad's kept me informed, just as much as he's kept you informed. This isn't pity."
"What's changed?" I ask, wondering what the catch is.
"I'm not that stubborn kid anymore," she says. "You're part of our family. It's always been that way, and it's time for me to accept it."
"I don’t want you to accept the situation just because you don’t have a choice," I say. "I want you to accept me because it’s what you want. Otherwise, you'll just end up resenting me even more."
"Adam," she begins, her voice soft. "What I'm trying to say is that I'm sorry. The feelings that festered inside me all those years weren’t your doing. It was me—my insecurities, my jealousy, my immaturity. It was all me. I can admit that now." Her words are heavy with emotion and regret.
"Katie, it's okay," I say, wanting to reassure her. "I can't blame you for wanting to maintain your place in your father's heart,” even though I was always in her space.
"Friends?" she asks, extending her hand. I wish I could tell her I'd much prefer to seal the deal with a kiss, but I keep that thought to myself.
"Friends," I smile, shaking her hand. The warmth of her touch reaches my soul.
"So, about the room," she says. "It's yours if you still want it. And I’d really like to teach you how to cook."
"I'll check out of the hotel tomorrow," I say, shooting her a smile before cracking my knuckles. "So, how do you make spaghetti?"
***
"How does it taste?" I ask, holding the spoon up to Katie's lips with a grin.
"Not bad for your first try at homemade spaghetti sauce," she smiles, clearly impressed.
"You've got a little bit of sauce right there," I say, pointing at the corner of her lips.
"Right here?" she jokes, wiping the wrong side of her mouth.
"No," I say, trying not to laugh, "The other side."
"Here?" she laughs, still wiping the wrong spot, pretending to be oblivious to where I’m pointing.
"If you can’t find it," I tease, "I’m going to have to tickle you until you do.”
Her eyes widen with mock horror, and she tries to pull away, but I’m too quick. I reach for her side, my fingers grazing her waist. She lets out a surprised squeal, squirming away as she laughs.
"Stop! No fair!" she gasps, trying to dodge me.
But I catch her, pulling her close. She wriggles, laughing uncontrollably, begging me to stop, but the sound of her laughter only makes me want to keep going.
"Are you going to cooperate?" I tease, squeezing her tighter.
"Okay, okay!" she laughs, breathless. "You win. It's right here," she finally says, wiping the corner of her mouth.
I stop, smiling down at her, and with my thumb, I gently wipe the spot where the sauce had been.
"Yeah, all gone," I murmur.
An hour passes in what feels like minutes—each moment with Katie slipping away as effortlessly as wine flowing from a bottle. Every laugh, every word she speaks seems to stretch time, and yet, it’s gone before I’m ready for it to be. I try to focus on my plate, but every time I glance up, her smile pulls me in like a magnet. Her words sink into me in a way no conversation ever has, each laugh of hers sparking something in me that I didn’t know I was missing. I can’t seem to tear my eyes away. She’s… different. More than I expected. More than I want to admit.
My mind fights with itself, my thoughts veering dangerously off course as I look at her. She’s Jon’s daughter, my best friend’s kid. I try to latch onto that fact, but the tug of something deeper between us keeps pulling at me, threatening to unravel everything I’ve built in my head. She's family… isn't she?
The thought of Jon knowing—really knowing—shifts something in me. My chest tightens, and I feel a cold, unsettling tug in my gut. What would he say? What would he do if he found out that what I’m feeling for Katie is anything but familial? The fear of losing everything is almost too much to bear.
Side by side, our hands brush as we pass the soap and dishes, and for a split second, it feels like more than just washing up. The quiet rhythm of it pulls me closer, and I feel the weight of her presence beside me—how natural it feels, like we’ve always belonged here together. Her hand lingers on mine for a beat too long, and I don’t know if it’s intentional, but my heart stutters anyway. The words come so easily, like we’ve been doing this for years, and the steady rhythm of our voices is as comfortable as the water running from the faucet. But it’s her laugh that keeps me grounded. It rings out like a melody, playful and bright, and it’s impossible not to be drawn in. Every note seems to settle in the space between us, weaving around me like a thread I can’t escape.
Her scent, soft and floral, clings to the air, and with every breath I take, it fills my chest, drawing me in further. It’s a quiet pull, but one I can’t ignore, the kind that stirs something deep within me, making it harder to think, harder to breathe, with every passing second.
There’s no denying it—not to myself, not to anyone. The truth feels heavy in my chest, and for the first time, I don’t try to push it away. It’s there, unshakable, pulsing with every beat of my heart. God, I love her.
When it's time to say goodnight, Katie walks me to the door, a soft smile on her lips. I step into the threshold, but before I can step out, I turn to face her, feeling an urge to stay a moment longer.
"Before I forget," I say, looking into her eyes, my heart racing, wanting nothing more than to kiss her goodnight. I clear my throat instead, reminding myself of the distance we still need to bridge. "Please submit the offer for the condo. It’s a good deal."
My words hang in the air, but the tension between us feels heavier than anything I’ve said. She nods, but neither of us moves, and for a moment, the quiet says more than our words ever could.
"Goodnight, Adam," she says, her gaze lingering on mine.
"Goodnight, Katie," I whisper, and before I can think twice, I lean in and press a soft kiss to her cheek.