I roll to my side so I can see his profile. He’s got an arm slung behind his head. The top of the comforter rests across his abdomen. This all feels so normal, my chest aches.
What would it be like to go to bed with him every night?
I can’t go there. I just got over rejection and heartbreak.
“I have to get up for chores in the morning,” he says,turning his head toward me. “So don’t leave before I can make us some eggs.”
“I prefer muffins, actually.”
He flashes a smile. “I can make muffins.”
I laugh. “I’m just kidding. I would offer to cook, but I make a mess.”
“You keep warning me,” he says wryly.
“It irritates you.”
He shifts his position to face me. “When I thought it was because you were so self-centered that you don’t think twice. But I know better now.”
Pleased, I smile. “My college roommate used to get so upset with me because I joked that I needed two to three business days to wash my dishes. I had to get a single dorm room until I got an apartment.”
“You’re aware, and I think that’s half the battle. The cowboys in the bunkhouse were some nasty guys.”
“I have a feeling you’re super fastidious. This house is unreal.”
He’s quiet for a moment.
“Did I say something wrong?”
“There’s nothing else to do and no one to dirty it up.”
There’s an emptiness in his tone. He’s not just getting laid, he’s getting company. That’s his part of the arrangement. “I can get you a medium-sized dog.”
His chuckle is deep and pleasing. “So it’ll either be a chihuahua or a Great Dane?”
“The guy at the rescue swore up and down Coal was a medium-sized dog, even after I commented about how he looks like a yellow Lab. But he had those big eyes and I just knew Kacey would fall in love.”
He curls a piece of my hair through his fingers. “Maybe I should get a dog. You can pick it out.”
“You’d trust me after Coal?”
“He’s quite the guardian. And a giant teddy bear. You did good.”
Stunned, I don’t say anything. He’s been so supportive through the whole wedding business, but a dog has nothing to do with our agreement. “Are you serious? You want a pet?”
“He’s going to be a working dog, but yeah, I’d like the company. I have two weeks before I can get a kitten.”
“You should take two,” I say sagely. “Double the mousers and they can keep each other company when you’re not here.”
“Is this that peer-pressure thing I heard about growing up?”
I laugh lightly, but his words don’t settle quite right in my brain. “You didn’t get peer pressured?”
“We would’ve had to be around peers.”
“Oh.” I don’t know what to say to that. He’s alluded to what his upbringing was like with his mom, but no details, and I don’t want to be nosy.
“Mom left us alone a lot.” His voice is wooden, like he’s put distance between himself and the memories and he doesn’t want to close it up. “We worked a lot, taking side hustles when we were too young to be officially employed. Then Iverson got a cheap pickup and lawn mower and we did lawn care. School was... a blink. We did what we had to and left it behind.”
