“Griffin!”
He pulled back, staring at the screen. “Why the hell are you looking at apartments?”
“Because I need somewhere to live.”
“You live here.”
“Temporarily.” I tried to close the laptop again, but he held it open. “The season ends in December. I need to find my own place.”
I knew it sounded ridiculous.
But a lifetime of my father’s conditioning whispered that I couldn’t just assume Griffin would want me here forever. That I needed to be self-sufficient, independent, not some kept woman relying on her wealthy boyfriend’s charity.
Griffin’s jaw tightened. “You’re planning to leave me already?”
The words came out joking, but something vulnerable flickered in his eyes.
“I’m not leaving you.”
The tension in his shoulders eased slightly.
“We’re dating. We’re together. But I can’t just... assume.” I stood, needing space to think. “I need to figure out my own life. My degree, my future. I can’t rely on you to solve everything.”
“Why not?”
I spun around. “What?”
He closed the distance between us. “Why can’t you rely on me?”
“Because...” I scrambled for words that made sense. “Because what happens when things change? When you get bored, or realize this is too much work, or?—”
“Stop.” His jaw tightened. “You think I’m going anywhere?”
My throat closed. “I don’t know. People always leave.”
Hurt flickered across his face. “I’m not your father.”
I flinched and glanced away. But he caught my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze.
“I’m not Julian. I’m not going to use you and toss you aside when you’re no longer convenient. That’s not who I am.”
“I know that.”
His thumb traced my jaw. “Princess, you’re looking at studio flats you can’t afford and student loans that’ll strangle you for the next decade. All because you can’t imagine asking me for help.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“It is, actually.” His hands framed my face. “You live here. With me. With Hazel. That’s not temporary. That’s not some trial period.”
Heat pricked behind my eyes. I blinked it away.
He moved back to the counter to scan the screen. His expression darkened. “How long have you been looking at these?”
I hesitated. “A week.”
“You’ve been stressing about this for a week and didn’t say anything?”
To be fair, the past week had been hell.
