Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
AUbrEY
After only a couple of weeks, we’ve somehow slipped into routines that feel like they’ve existed for years.
It’s Saturday morning, and Dean is making coffee while I make breakfast.
Liana supervises from her bouncer that we placed on the floor in the kitchen.
By ten o’clock, she finishes her bottle, rubs sleepy fists against her eyes, and drifts off almost the second Dean lays her in the crib in her room.
“I’ll give her an hour,” he whispers as we quietly close the nursery door.
“Optimistic.”
He smirks. “I’m manifesting.”
I laugh softly before following him into the family room.
Instead of disappearing into his office like he did the first week I lived here, Dean settles onto the couch with his laptop balanced across his knees.
“You have work to do?” I ask.
“Just a few emails.”
“I’ll keep you company.”
His smile is immediate. “I was hoping you would.”
I disappear into the kitchen long enough to grab my laptop before returning to the couch. The second I sit down, Dean stretches one long leg across the cushions until it bumps mine.
I glance over. “What are you doing?”
He doesn’t even look up from his screen. “Making sure you’re not too far away.”
I smile to myself and tuck my feet beneath one of his legs before opening my laptop.
A few moments later, I feel his foot gently nudge mine. I nudge him back.
After doing this absent-mindedly for a while, he looks over the top of his screen. “Are we playing footsie?”
I chuckle. “You started it.”
His grin is so unfairly attractive that I have to look back at my laptop before I completely forget why I opened it.
“So,” he says after a minute, “what are you working on?”
“I’m sending out résumés.”
The words have barely left my mouth before I notice his fingers have stopped moving across his keyboard. His shoulders stiffen ever so slightly.
When I look over, he’s already forced a smile back onto his face.
“Oh?” he says with a clipped edge to his voice.
“I’ve been slacking.” I click into another application. “There aren’t many openings right now, but I figure I should keep looking.”
“Right,” he says casually … but it feels too casual.
My stomach twists. Neither of us says anything for a while. The only sounds in the room are keyboards clicking and the faint hum of the dishwasher finishing its cycle in the kitchen.
Every so often, our feet find each other beneath the throw blanket draped across our legs.
Neither of us moves away.
I upload my résumé for what feels like the hundredth time before sighing at another application asking me to manually type everything I already attached.
“Who designed these websites?” I mutter.
Dean chuckles quietly. “Someone who clearly hates people.”
“I’ve already uploaded my résumé.”
“I know.”
“So, why do I have to type every single job I’ve ever had?”
He looks over. “Character building.”
I groan dramatically. “I don’t want character.”
“You sure?”
“I’ve got plenty.”
He laughs under his breath before returning to his emails.
Thirty minutes pass. I finally finish another application when I hear Dean’s laptop snap shut.
I look over to find him staring at me. He places it on the coffee table.
“What?” I ask when he still keeps his eyes focused on me.
Instead of answering, he reaches over and gently closes my laptop too.
“Dean …”
“No more résumés.”
“I have two more bookmarked,” I say in protest.
“They’ll still be there tomorrow.”
I laugh. “You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
“You do?”
“I own enough companies to confidently say the internet will survive until tomorrow.”
I roll my eyes. “That’s a very billionaire answer.”
“I have those occasionally.” He leans toward me. “I miss you.”
I blink. “We’ve been sitting next to each other. You’ve been touching my feet for half an hour.”
“I know.”
“So, how do you miss me?”
His smile softens into something that makes my heart ache. “Because you’ve been over there.”
He reaches out, sliding one arm around my waist before I have the chance to protest.
“Dean …”
“Come here.”
I barely have time to laugh before he pulls me sideways across the couch until I land against him with a surprised squeal.
“You are impossible,” I say through a fit of laughter.
“I’ve been called worse.”
He settles me comfortably against his chest like this is exactly where I belong. Maybe it is.
“You’re supposed to be answering emails.”
He tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. “I finished.”
“You didn’t.”
“I’ll finish on Monday.”
I look down at him. “So responsible.”
“I’ve been responsible all week.”
His hands rest lightly against my back. “It’s Saturday. I’d rather spend it with you.”
I can’t stop smiling. “You’re very distracting.”
He runs his fingers across my cheek before looking at me for a quiet moment.
“What?” I whisper.
“I like this.” His thumb traces lazy circles against my side. “You in my arms. You stealing half my couch.”
I smile. “You make it sound like I’ve moved in.”
He laughs. “I think that ship sailed about two months ago.”
“I suppose it did.”
And has it really been two months? The time has flown by.
“It definitely did.”
Our eyes meet again, but neither of us says a word. We don’t need to.
He leans up just enough to kiss me, slowly, the kind of kiss that doesn’t ask for anything except another second together.
When we finally pull apart, I can’t help but smile. “You interrupted my very important job search.”
“I did.”
“And now I’m behind.”
“I’ll accept full responsibility.”
“Oh, will you?”
“Mmhmm.”
“How exactly do you plan to make it up to me?”
His grin widens. “I was hoping another kiss might be a good place to start.”
I laugh before leaning down to meet him halfway. For now, the résumés can wait another hour.