24. Rose #2
I laugh, thrilled by his priorities. “That’s the first thing to go. Along with the crunchy blanket. I’d want a couch that’s perfect for reading or taking a nap. Something cozy.”
“Cozy sounds good.”
“My parents don’t want me to change the house.” I told myself not to, but blurting things out is freeing. Little weights lifting off my soul every time I overshare with him.
He takes a long, slow breath, as if he’s choosing his words carefully.
“That’s garbage.”
Or maybe he’s not. I can’t help my cackle. “I can count on you to say what you really think.”
He doesn’t respond, just ticks his jaw as he watches me.
“I think they plan to go back to living here when they’re done traveling.” I should have asked. Probably should have said a lot of things.
“What do they expect you to do if you meet someone you want to have a life with? Everybody will just live here together?”
“In some cultures, multi-generational houses are the norm.” I’m not really thinking about that possibility, though. My brain’s stuck on Reed saying “if you meet someone.”
Not him. Someone.
If.
That’s worse than realizing my parents gave me the house in name only.
“That’s an unfair expectation to put on you, Rose.”
“I know. But I don’t know how to have it out with my parents.” I slide forward to put my plate on the coffee table and snag a big cookie.
“Sometimes you just have to go for it.”
“I’ll need more grump lessons from you first.” I take a bite and groan over the brown-butter flavor mixed with the rich chocolate chips. I press one hand to my lips, making sure every last crumb gets in my mouth. “Oh my gosh. Did you get these from the bakery?”
“My mom made them. She would have made you dinner, too, but I told her I was picking up Chinese food.”
“She’s a really good mom.” I blame my watery voice on my cold. Everything I’ve seen tells me Sara Bridger loves her kids for exactly who they are. Maybe everyone around her, too. “She’s so sweet. Both your parents seem supportive and accepting of you guys.”
I think again of how sure they were that Graham will figure out the new challenges at his work. They didn’t tell him it was beyond him, didn’t fret that maybe he’d screw it all up. Just told him how smart he is and that he can handle it. What I wouldn’t give to hear the same from my parents.
“They are,” he agrees. “We put them through it when we were growing up, but they’re always here for us. Rain or shine.”
My cat wanders into view, taking up a position beside the coffee table like a stone lion outside a library. He watches Reed and me, telegraphing his condescension in slow blinks. He’s the quietest little guy, not even offering a meow of curiosity. I haven’t figured out if that’s good or bad.
“He’s so close,” I say under my breath.
“Hold firm.” Reed casually leans forward to take a drink from his glass as if he doesn’t care that the cat’s only feet away from us. I do the same, trying not to look at him too much.
“Want to watch a movie?” he asks. “Keep your marathon going?”
“My movie marathon is all romcoms. I don’t know if you’ll like it.”
“I’ll like it,” he says low.
I pull up my account, the line of movies I completed today scrolling across the bottom. Another one is already queued up, sticking to the theme of couples falling in love.
“Have you seen this one? The guy she’s got a crush on winds up in a coma and she pretends to be his fiancée, but then she falls in love with his brother.”
His mouth ticks up on one side. “Fake dating, huh?”
I smile back. “Sort of. It wasn’t a theme. It’s just a really good movie.”
“Can’t wait.”
I start it up, the peppy nineties soundtrack filling the living room. My attention drifts between Lucy and Jack on screen, the cat who hasn’t moved other than to twitch his tail, and the man at the other end of the couch.
The last one takes up most of my focus. He’s just so…good. He’s kind and sweet, and his caretaking streak is off the charts. We only agreed to pretend to date. Let it ride. Whatever squishy thing my heart’s doing in my ribcage isn’t part of the agreement.
And I am nothing if not agreeable.
I’m also bone-tired and still a little sick. I try to sink deeper into the couch, but it’s not built for that kind of comfort. The couch of my dreams has big, soft cushions that cradle your body like clouds and is any color other than black or white.
Reed grabs the extra pillow I brought from upstairs and lays it across his lap. He catches my eye and taps it twice in invitation.
I did say I’m agreeable. Can’t start being contrary now. I lie out, pulling the blanket along with me, and settle my head on the pillow. Coziness spreads through my body like I’m absorbing it through him. Beneath my head, I rest one hand on his firm thigh.
I’m sick. I deserve this.
I am dangerously used to this level of closeness with Reed.
The cat jumps onto the couch, situating himself in front of my chest. He curls up, and even though he’s not touching me, this is the closest to cuddling we’ve ever been.
“What do I do?” I whisper.
“Just let him figure it out.”
I don’t move. The cat swishes his tail, leaving it laying across my arm.
I’m counting it.
We watch the movie, laughing as Jack and Lucy grow closer but refuse to admit how they feel about each other. Reed gently draws his fingertips across my scalp, massaging at my hairline before sweeping down my braid. Soothing me over and over until I’m drifting to the edge of sleep.
“I might rest my eyes for a minute, too.”
He chuckles at my warning. “You take whatever you need, firefly.”
Staying awake, protecting my heart—I never stood a chance.