“It’s a very nice house.”
He shrugs, like it annoys him that I noticed. “I have someone who comes in twice a week. Cleaning. Garden. It’s not that hard to keep things decent when you pay people.”
He rejects the compliment like it’s an insult.
I tilt my head slightly. “It still feels like you.”
His eyes narrow. “What does that mean?”
“Organized. Solid. Everything in its place.”
He looks almost offended by that. “You’re here to analyze my furniture now?”
“No,” I say softly. “I’m just saying… it suits you.”
His jaw flexes again, and for a split second something flickers in his expression. Uncertainty. Maybe even discomfort.
He clears his throat. “Why are you here, Talia?”
My stomach flips. I set my tote down slowly on the floor like I’m handling something fragile.
“I needed to talk to you.”
“You could’ve called.”
I inhale, trying to steady myself. There’s no graceful way to say this.
“I’m here to move in with you.”
The words hit the room like a grenade.
Jake just stares at me.
“…Move in?” he repeats flatly.
“Yes.”
“With me.”
“Yes.”
“In this house.”
I nod, because what else am I supposed to do?
His hands drop to his sides. “Have you completely lost your mind?”
“Before you start freaking out… there’s more.”
“There’s more?” His voice jumps an octave. “Talia, what the hell is going on?”
I bend to pull the papers from my tote before I lose my nerve. The crisp white pages feel heavier than they should.
“I didn’t sign them,” I say.
He freezes.
“What?”
