“Really?” Even though I know he won’t be in view, I turn to look in the direction I last saw Titus.
Why in the world would he buy a dining room table and chairs?
“You got a room it needs to go in?” The deliveryman prompts me, trying to move this whole process along.
“Yeah.” I step back, making space for him to come inside. “Sorry.”
Thank goodness I cleaned out the dining room last week. Otherwise, I don’t know where in the hell we would have put the behemoth of a table Titus ordered. I watch as a trio of delivery men bring it in, being careful not to bump walls or door casings as they move the solid wood work of art into a room once occupied by a whole lot of dust and an equally shocking amount of cereal boxes.
Titus clearly bought his former favorite food in bulk. I spent the better part of one afternoon carrying the overflowinto the basement, lining it on one of many empty shelving units in the sectioned-off storage space. It’d been a nice way to pass the time while I was wandering around the house all on my own, but I figured it was a primarily pointless pursuit. Never did it occur to me that Titus would actually want to use the dining room for its intended purpose. I was just sick of looking at the shit.
Once the table and allsixteenchairs are in place, and the delivery men are gone, I stand in the doorway, trying to figure out where I’ve seen it before. It’s oddly familiar, but I can’t quite put my finger on why.
“What do you think?”
My heart speeds at the closeness of Titus’s voice. I didn’t even hear him come up behind me, so there was no time to prepare myself or school my reaction. Hopefully I don’t look like a teenage girl in heat even though I’m pretty sure that’s what I am.
“I think I don’t know why you got a dining room table and chairs.” I risk a peek at him over one shoulder, my skin immediately going hot at how close his body is to mine. “Are you planning on hosting a dinner party?”
“I just thought it was time I actually got some furniture for this place.” His eyes hang on me a second before moving to the table. “I thought you might like having somewhere to eat besides the kitchen counter.”
My attention returns to the table. It’s somewhere all right. Somewhere a whole soccer team could eat. And then some.
I’m quickly learning Titus isn’t a man who does things halfway. I needed a few pots and pans, and he bought me every item Hex Clad makes. I wrote up a list of everything I would need to fully stock the kitchen, and he purchased it all in one go.
And the man sure doesn’t half-ass cake consumption.
Still, a table for sixteen seems like overkill when it’s just the two of us.
“A table in the breakfast room would’ve been a way easier route to accomplish that.” That space is smaller. A round table for four or six would have fit perfectly and suited our needsjust fine.
Titus's penetrating gaze comes back to me and I could swear he looks a little smug when he says, “Then you’ll be happy to hear the breakfast room table is being delivered tomorrow.” He brings one hand to the small of my back, using it to turn me toward the kitchen. “Now come eat your breakfast.”
12
Titus
The doorbell rings, and for the first time in three days, I am not expecting it. I’ve had a shit ton of furniture delivered recently, but I’m pretty sure it’s all here, so I don’t know who in the hell could be on my front porch right now.
Pulling up the camera feed on my laptop, I lay eyes on my unexpected—unwanted—visitors.
Mariah’s elbows deep in some sort of baking project, but she quickly grabs a dish towel, preparing to wipe her hands because she knows I don’t love answering the door.
This time, I’ll make an exception.
Standing from the chair I’ve occupied consistently since she collapsed a week and a half ago, I brace myself for what’s coming. “I’ll be right back.”
Mariah’s brows pinch in concern. “You want me to get it?”
No fucking way. I definitely don’t want her to get it.
I shake my head, offering a smile I hope convinces her I’m not bothered. “I got it.”
Hopefully she stays in the kitchen while I handle this. I was aggravated enough watching as just about every fucking furniture delivery guy checked her out and did their best to gether attention. If one of my brothers pulls that shit, there’s a good chance he’ll end up with my fist in his face.
Taking a deep breath, I open the door, looking from face to face in silence as I wait for them to explain their sudden—uninvited—arrival.
Tucker shoots me a grin. “Aren’t you gonna invite us in?”
