A knock on my window has me nearly jumping out of my seat. Brent stands outside of my car with a frown on his face. He opens the door and leans inside with an arm resting on the car.
“Hon, I’d prefer it if you came inside and told me whatever it is your parents did.”
“What makes you think they did something? I might just be tired.”
“If you were just tired, you’d come on in and go to bed, not sit in the car and avoid coming inside,” he answers. He’s too smart for my own good.
“Can we get all of this stuff out tomorrow? I need hot chocolate and a hot body to cuddle up with on the couch.”
“If you’d rather wait.” He holds his hands out for me to take, which I do as soon as I unbuckle my seatbelt and grab my purse.
“How did Shannon take the news?” I ask as we walk inside.
“Better than expected. You have a seat. I’ll fix you your hot chocolate.”
I kiss his cheek before he can walk into the kitchen. I drop my purse and keys on the coffee table, kick off my shoes, and fall back onto the couch. Just when I think my parents will do better because of the dinner we had after they met Brent, they show me that no, we still have some kinks to work out.
“Jamie.”
I open my eyes to the beautiful sight of Brent holding out a mug of hot chocolate. The mug heats my hands and the drink tastes heavenly. Brent sits down next to me. He grabs my legs and pulls them onto his lap.
“You going to tell me what happened?”
I rest my head on his shoulder. “It’s funny how your question sounds like a demand.” Another sigh slips out. “They were disappointed that I didn’t want to be closer to home. They think it’s too soon and spent half the time I was packing trying to talk me out of it. I reached my limit and started yelling and reminding them of what they promised me when we went to dinner that night. About being open-minded and listening to me and everything like that. That shut them up for a good fifteen minutes. They eventually came around to the idea before I left.” I look at Brent. “Since we’re living together, Mom expects us to get married in the next three years.”
Brent doesn’t give me much of a reaction, but he does ask, “Are we planning to meet that expectation or are we going to disappoint her?”
Keeping my face masked of my surprise that he actually asked me that, I play it cool. “I guess you’ll find out if you propose to me sometime in the next three years.”
Brent chuckles and nudges my mug up to my mouth. “Then you should definitely relax and let me worry about things.”
“That’ll be my new motto,” I tell him. “I’ll relax while you worry about all the problems. Yours and mine,” I clarify.
“Go ahead. I won’t mind.”
My head finds his shoulder once more and we watch TV in silence while I sip my hot chocolate. The rest of this week will be spent unpacking and working. It’s tempting to call in sick tomorrow. I don’t feel like I’ve had any time to recover from being on vacation, and a person always needs at least one day to recover from traveling, even when the trip was a vacation.
I rest a hand on Brent’s thigh as I lean forward to place my mug on the coffee table. I look over my shoulder at him. “How bummed will you be if I go to bed early? Aren’t you tired too? I don’t know how you went to work today.”
“I was ready, that’s how. Go on to bed if you want. I’ll be up in a bit.”
Darn it. I was hoping he’d come with me. Instead, he gets a kiss and I go upstairs to our room all alone. It’s eerie. This is our room, no longer just Brent’s. I live with my boyfriend. For the foreseeable future, I share this comfy bed with someone.
Well, except for right this minute.
Regardless, my heart sings with happy heartbeats. I fall asleep the second after my head hits the pillow.
When I wake up in the morning, my left thumb rubs my ring finger. I had dreamed that Brent proposed. It’s way too soon for that to become a reality. At least, I think it is. What do I know? I moved in with him faster than I pictured myself moving in with any guy. When Brent’s ready, he’ll ask. I’ll be prepared to answer, I hope.
Stretching a little, I open my eyes and smile from the weight of Brent’s arm over my waist and the heat of his body behind me. But then I frown. Boxes upon boxes, plus a few other recognizable items, sit against the wall across from me. Those are my things. He brought them in all by himself?
Brent’s alarm goes off and he rolls away from me to turn it off.
“Brent?”
He grunts in response.
“You brought in my things?”