Another

“Dinner,” I almost shouted to break the tense silence. “What do you want to do for dinner?”

He didn’t respond right away, and I took the risk to look up. One eyebrow raised high, and he didn’t have to say a word. He knew what had almost happened and knew he could push to make me admit it. But I pleaded with my eyes for him to let it go.

He shook his head, and I knew he would give me this, just once, but my time was running out before we confronted the attraction between us. “Italian?”

“Ugh,” I answered easily, falling into our safe banter. “Mexican.”

“Tough shit, woman. We’re doing Italian.”

I rolled my eyes but let him have it. He’d let me have more reprieve than I deserved today. Italian was the least I could do.

But I couldn’t lie to myself and shut the door on my growing desire.

Old Carina had popped out, and I wasn’t sure she wanted to go back in.

17 Ian

“Son of a bitch.” Carina gave me a dark warning look about my language, but the throbbing moved from my stubbed toe up to my ankle. “Mother effing-piece of shii…” I faded off and finished with a growl of frustration.

If I stumbled over one more baby item, I was bound to break something or fall and crash and burn.

“Sorry.” She gave an apologetic smile now that I’d word vomited my pain. “I was bouncing her as I looked over some work.”

Audrey sucked her thumb with her eyes closed from her rocking crib next to the couch. Carina rocked her with her foot as she flipped through the papers spread out on the coffee table. I looked to the right at the empty swing wedged in the corner between the chair and the tv stand.

“What about the swing?”

“She wasn’t happy there.”

“Of course not. That girl is a diva,” I said, pointing at the sleeping baby who probably got her diva-ness from me.

Carina shrugged and kept rocking.

“Can I put it back in her room?”

“Umm, yeah,” she agreed, looking around the cramped room like a spot would magically appear. “Just kind of stick it between the chair and her crib.”

Flipping on the light to the baby room, I took in the tastefully decorated—but overly full—space. There was baby shit piled on top of more baby shit. The closet was tiny for storage and overflowed into the dresser, jam-packed with clothes and diapers. This room was designed to be more of an office than an actual room.

I thought about my empty apartment that had too many rooms and had been empty for the better part of a month. Dropping my eyes to my poor abused feet, I thought back to when I first suggested we move into my place. She’d looked at me like I’d lost my mind and immediately shut me down.

But that was then, and I’d approached it cautiously, letting her back away from the topic too easily. She probably never expected me to stay on her couch as long as I have, but I meant what I said when I told her I didn’t want to be away from them.

I was ready to broach the topic again, and this time, I was going to smother her with good reasons and not let her back down. The plan sounded fantastic in my head. It sounded even better when I tripped over a rattle as I made my way out to the living room.

It sounded less good barreling out of my mouth, and Carina looked at me like I had grown a second head.

“Let’s move in together.”

“What?” she almost shrieked. “Ian, we already discussed this.”

I ignored her scrunched frown and pushed on. “Come on,” I urged, moving to sit beside her on the couch. “We’re basically doing it anyway, and my place is so much bigger. It makes sense. Things have settled, and we’ve created a good rhythm. Let’s keep it going with more space.”

“You want me to give up my apartment?” she asked like I’d suggested she get rid of a limb. “We’re not even a couple, Ian.”

“We sure aren’t,” I answered quickly, a victorious smile forming. She raised her brows, shocked at how happy I was she’d pointed it out. Carina was practical, and I was only winning this battle by not trying to seduce her. “We’re partners in this, and that means more than anything else.”

I held back my fist pump when I saw the first crack in her resolve—practicality for the win.

“Yes, it does mean a lot,” she agreed slowly. “But how long can this last? What about a year from now when you want to start seeing someone? Or I want to start seeing someone?”

Clenching my jaw, I barely held back the jealous growl at imagining her with someone other than me. My inner caveman was shoving practical aside, but I managed to keep him at bay with a deep breath. “I know we haven’t talked about us, but I don’t see myself having anything to give when I give it all to Audrey.”