Chapter 1 #2
I only just manage not to check my reflection in my wine glass to see if my nose is growing. The chance of me finding an apartment as nice as the one I have now is slim to none. Maybe in White Plains, a fifteen minute drive east of here, but not in Sleepy Hollow.
Which stinks. I’ve been living in Sleepy Hollow for the last eight years, and I love it.
I love the quaint downtown and being able to walk from my apartment to meet my friends for trivia at the Hop-less Horseman or happy hour specials at Wine and Cheese.
I love how Sleepy Hollow goes all out for Halloween, turning it into a month-long celebration.
And I love walking the sidewalks during Christmas time, looking at the elaborately-decorated storefronts and watching the kids gather in the town park to see Santa.
I know I could just make the drive from White Plains to here. But it’s not the same. Sleepy Hollow is home. And I don’t want to leave.
Mitch takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “So… I was thinking. What if you didn’t look for a new apartment?”
“I can’t buy a house, Mitch. I don’t have the money saved for a down payment. And I’m not going to ask my parents—”
“I didn’t mean that. I meant… what if you moved in with me?”
“What?” I jerk in surprise. “Move in with you?”
When he winces, I realize that probably came across as insulting, which isn’t what I intended. “Sorry,” I hurriedly add. “Not that your house isn’t nice.”
His smile is tight. “So you’re saying my house is nice, but I’m not?”
As Mitch starts to draw his hand away from mine, I clutch it tightly. “No, that’s not what I meant. At all. Of course you’re nice. I just… Move in with you? Isn’t that a little fast?”
“You could have your own bedroom,” he replies. “I wouldn’t expect you… Well. You’ve been to my house. You’ve seen how much space I have. You could take the guest room. Or my office. Or… you could take my bedroom and I could move to one of the others.”
Mitch does have a lovely house—a split-level on the outskirts of town. It has three good-sized bedrooms, two newly-renovated bathrooms, a kitchen with all new appliances, a large game room in the basement, and a private back yard with a patio perfect for grilling or relaxing with a good book.
If Mitch and I were just friends, I could see myself living there.
But we’re not. We’re in this weird, ambiguous relationship that makes the whole thing a lot more complicated.
If I moved in with Mitch, we wouldn’t be roommates. We’d be a couple. Living together. Which is a whole bunch of steps ahead of where we are now.
I’m not sure how I feel about that.
Yes, you do, that logical voice whispers. You’re scared.
No, I’m not, I silently protest. I’m being cautious. I’ve been burned before and I’m just making sure it doesn’t happen again.
“It would solve your problem,” Mitch continues. “You wouldn’t have to scramble to find a place. You could move in whenever you want.”
“Mitch.”
“We get along great, Pen. You know we do. And I’m easy to live with. I clean up after myself, I vacuum, I run the dishwasher…”
As he talks, anxiety builds inside me. My pulse speeds. Waves of hot and cold sweep through my body.
“Mitch,” I repeat, more forcefully this time. “Stop.”
His hopeful smile drops. “Penny—”
I let out a shaky breath. Then another. “Thank you for offering. Truly. But I’m just not sure it’s a good idea.”
“Why not? We’ve been friends for years. And we’ve been dating for six months. It’s not like we’re strangers.”
“I know. But… it just seems soon.”
“I told you, I wouldn’t expect you to share a bed with me. I mean, if you wanted… But I wouldn’t expect it. At all.”
“We’d be living together, though.”
“And?” He draws out the word. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“It’s not. But… it just seems soon. Living together is something couples decide to do after dating for months. Years, even.”
“But we have been dating for months.”
“It’s not the same. We’re not really together.”
Mitch winces.
As soon as the words leave my mouth, I regret them. “Mitch. I’m sorry. I didn’t—”
Mitch pulls his hand away from mine. Hurt shadows his gaze. “We’re not together? Is that really how you feel?”
“We go out on dates. But it’s not the same thing.”
He leans back, putting more distance between us. “What are we, then, Penny? I get that you wanted to take things slow. And I’ve been fine with that. But it’s been half a year—”
I pull my hands into my lap and twist them together. “Moving in together is a big deal, Mitch.”
“Fine. So you don’t move in. No problem.”
The tension banded around my chest releases. “Okay. It’s not that I don’t appreciate you asking. I really do.”
“Penny.” Mitch leans over the table again. His voice lowers. “It’s okay if you don’t want to move in. But I have to ask. Where are we going?”
My tiramisu churns in my stomach. “What do you mean?”
“Us. Our relationship. Slow is one thing, but… I’m starting to think we’re never going to move past once-a-week dates. That this is all you want, indefinitely.”
I cast a furtive glance around the restaurant, somehow certain everyone’s staring at me. But they’re all enjoying their meals, chatting happily with their dinner partners, completely oblivious to the panic blossoming inside me.
“It’s not that,” I reply quietly. “I’m just not sure I’m ready for more.”
Mitch pins me with his gaze. “But when will you be? Another six months? A year?” He pauses. “Or never?”
“I don’t know.” Defensively, I toss back, “You said you didn’t mind waiting.”
“Waiting is one thing,” he retorts. “But every time I’ve asked you to do anything that even hints at commitment, you say no. My sister’s wedding. A weekend trip upstate. You won’t even agree to more than one date a week, Pen.”
“We play trivia—”
“With four other people. That doesn’t count.”
“Mitch.” Threatening tears sting my eyes. “Can’t we just keep things as they are?”
Silence drags while I wait for him to respond.
Then he slowly shakes his head. “I’m thirty-seven, Penny. I want commitment. I want to get married one day. Maybe start a family. I don’t mind taking things slowly, but I’m getting the feeling you’re never going to be ready for more than what we have right now.”
A lump swells in my throat.
I’m scared of opening myself up to more.
But I’m scared to lose him, too.
On the heels of fear comes frustration.
Things have been working just fine as they are. Why does he want to push for more and potentially ruin things between us?
“Am I right?” Mitch presses. His gaze searches mine. “Or am I reading things wrong? Are you ready to be my girlfriend? Are you ready to see each other multiple times a week? Maybe not move in yet, but at least consider going on a trip together?”
Part of me wants to say yes.
But the other part is still too scared.
When I don’t answer, Mitch sighs again. His shoulders slump. “Okay, Penny. I get it.” He signals the server, who hustles over to pick up our check. Once she’s gone, he says, “Maybe it’s not a good idea to go out like this anymore.”
My heart squeezes. “Mitch. It doesn’t have to be like that.”
He looks at me sadly. “I think it does.”