The One I Want

The knickknacks and picture frames have been pared down to a minimum and, from what I can see, put on two shelves of the bookcase instead of everywhere in the apartment. She even renovated the kitchen and bathrooms.

I’m not a jump in headfirst kind of guy, but it looks like she’s planning on staying a while. “I like it. It fits you.” I’m not sure if it fits us, though.

She beams and then sits on the couch, spreading her arms wide across the back. “I think so, too.”

The thing is, thoughts about our future have become more frequent, the idea of settling down, whatever that means—becoming more boring, more routine, staying home more often—started sounding more appealing.

So when I look around her place and how she’s decorated, the money she’s spent, and the time she’s dedicated to making it her own, I’m thinking she feels the opposite. Yet for someone who claims they don’t like commitment, she sure is all in with this apartment.

I won’t rain on her parade with the conversation that feels long overdue regarding us and her plans in life. I’m a planner by nature, so I won’t be able to stay quiet for much longer.

“Drew?”

Shifting forward, I set my drink on the coffee table. “We should probably get going.”

“Did you hear anything I said?”

“I’m sorry. I must have missed it.”

She looks around as if she’ll find someone else in here. “How’d you miss it when it’s just the two of us?”

“I said I’m sorry.” Pushing up, I grab my keys from the bar. “Are you ready?”

Her arms lower to her side, but she’s not made any other effort to leave. “No.”

“No?”

“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s on your mind.”

I can’t lie to her. I’d be pissed if she did to me. We’re heading out of the honeymoon phase of this relationship, and I had looked forward to us getting more serious. “I like what you’ve done. I love it. I think it will get over asking if you sell it.”

Her eyes slide around the room as if the thought is unfathomable. “Why would I sell it? I just finished it.”

“My apartment is bigger.” I should have just said it instead of hinting around at what I’ve been thinking.

She scoffs, a humorless chuckle blending in at the end. “What does your apartment have to do with . . .” She stands—her jeans are skintight, and the hot pink top highlights her fantastic tits. Her chest rises and falls, and even though I know I shouldn’t look, I can’t stop myself. “Are you talking about me moving in with you? Upstairs? Living together? The two of us?”

“You can phrase it however it sounds best, but I’ve been thinking about it.”

“You have?” She doesn’t sound so mad right now. She comes to me and wraps her arms around me. With her head on my chest, she asks, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I’m saying it now.”

When she steps back, this time when she laughs, it reaches her eyes. “You’re saying it now because I put your vague remarks together to form the big picture.”

“Right, but it’s out there . . . now.” I tug at my collar. “Is it hot in here?”

“No. It’s just how you like it. I always have the thermostat at the acceptable Andrew Christiansen temp just in case you come down to see me.” Slipping on a coat, she heads for the door but doesn’t open it. “Moving in together is a big step. I know we spend most nights together but living together is different. Even though you didn’t ask, do you mind if I think about it?”

“Think about it like how you’ve been mulling over the job proposition for the last month?”

“Yes.”

I shove my phone and keys in my jacket pocket and head out. When I pass her, I ask, “Why does this not surprise me?”

“I have no idea. That’s really more for you to ponder than for me to answer.”

“Stop.” She does, five feet behind me. I don’t know why that bugs me, but it does. I close three of the feet. “I’m not asking you to move in, Juni.”

Fifty emotions flicker across her face, but the one that sticks is hurt. “That’s what I get for assuming.”

“I’m not asking you right now. I had planned to ask you soon, but you were so invested in making this apartment all yours that it made me think I was making a mistake.”

“How soon?”

I close the rest of the distance and take her by the belt loops. “Last month.”

“Oh that was really soon.”

“And then I chickened out.” I swallow my pride and give the woman credit where it’s due. “The apartment is great, and since it’s always at the perfect temperature according to many studies and national reviews of cohabitating in office spaces.”