“No you don’t.”
I shake my head, agreeing silently. Rowan walks around me now, taking himself through the apartment like he lives here. He hits the fridge first, grabbing some filtered water to pour into a glass—the same glass he uses every time he’s here. He uses it, washes it, dries it, and places it in the same spot on the top self. And there the glass sits, patiently waiting for him, every day.
He grabs my glass—my favorite mason jar I use for soda, juice, and water—and fills it next. I sit on the couch, watching as he opens and closes a cabinet, opening a bag of extra butter popcorn and putting it in the microwave.
“What should we watch?” Rowan asks as the popcorn pops, walking toward me and sitting beside me.
I rub my upper arms, warming the sudden chill. “I don’t know.”
Rowan grabs the remote and flips through the movies until he clicks on one, then presses play. As the opening title begins, he races to the microwave for the popcorn before sprinting back, opening the bag of popcorn and holding it in one hand. He winces from the heat as he tries to unfold my throw blanket with one hand, so I grab the bag and guard it.
Rowan throws the blanket across my lap and sits, pulling some over his legs and scooting closer to my side. He makes himself comfortable quickly and then pulls my legs across his lap, coaxing a yelp out of me from the sudden action.
“Rowan.” I giggle.
“What.” He smiles. “We’re getting comfortable.”
I snort. “Sure.”
“Okay.” Then I’m pulled the rest of the way over, my ass on his lap and my body curled against his chest.
“Rowan!”
“Nowwe’re comfortable.” He sighs, proud, and I grin as I rest my head in the crook of his neck.
The movie finally begins and we sit in comfortable silence as we watchThe Nightmare Before Christmas,his arm around my body, resting on my hip, and his other arm across my thighs. I have to admit, this is much more comfortable. Much warmer and homier.
“You okay?” Rowan whispers and brushes his lips over my temple.
“I’m okay,” I say, and Rowan smiles.
“I like that word better.”
CHAPTER 24
Natalia
On day two of my week off, there’s an annoying, insistent pounding on my apartment door that wakes me from an impromptu nap.Notting Hillis still playing when my eyes open.
I’ve been on a nineties rom-com binge wearing my blanket hoodie and fuzzy socks with Binx curled on my chest, but she leaps off of me when the pounding continues, startling her.
My cat pads away to my room and I groan, forcing myself off the couch. I fear there might be an imprint of my body in the cushions, but I don’t check as I reach my apartment door and yank it open.
Isabelle’s beaming face is the first thing I see. “We know you don’t want to be disturbed on your mental health week?—”
“But we brought you comfort food: Chinese!” Lana says with a grin, waiting for my approval.
“If you want to take the food and tell us to leave, you can,” Isa says. “We won’t be mad. We understand you, Nat.”
I can’t help the wetness that gathers in my eyes. “You can stay,” I rasp. “Thank you.”
“Aw, don’t do that,” Isa says. “You’ll make me cry.”
“I’m sorry.” I sniff and wipe my cheeks as the guilt washes over me. “I’m sorry.”
“No sorry’s here,” Lana says, stepping into my apartment and wrapping her arm around me to pull me into her side. “Just Chinese food and movies.”
“I’m binge-watching nineties rom-coms.”
