My brain empties completely.
“I’m sorry,” I say eventually. “I think I missed a sentence.”
“She thinks,” Christa repeats, “that from a purely practical point of view, it makes sense. You have space. I pay an obscene amount of rent for what is essentially a cupboard. You want to be involved with the baby. And it would save me money.”
I stare at her. She stares back, eyes bright, braced.
“And before you say anything,” she adds quickly, “I am not saying yes. I’m not even saying this is a good idea. I’m saying it exists.”
Silence stretches.
I rub a hand over my face. “I was just… dating.”
She squints. “Like right now.”
“Like… five minutes ago. On my phone. Not in person. But I just agreed a date.” I’m not sure why I’m telling her all of this. It has nothing to do with the bomb she just dropped in my living room slash kitchen.
She winces. “Okay. Bad timing.”
“No,” I say slowly. “Just… surprising.”
She paces once, then stops. “You don’t have to answer. You don’t have to react. I just needed to put it somewhere that wasn’t my head.”
I study her. The tension in her shoulders. The way she’s holding herself like she’s expecting rejection but won’t flinch if it comes.
Confusion is still winning out over everything else, but underneath it there’s something steady.
Something that makes sense.
“I’m not saying no,” I say carefully.
She exhales. “Good. Because that would have been awkward.”
“I am saying,” I continue, “that I need about ten seconds for my brain to reboot.”
She nods. “Take fifteen.”
I lean back against the door, heart thumping, and try to catch up with the whirlwind that has just walked into my flat.
Dating. Bedroom bans. Babies. And now… cohabitation.
Pee-Pee would have a field day.
I look at Christa, notebook clutched to her chest like a shield, eyes fixed on me.
“This is,” I say, “a lot.”
She huffs out a laugh. “I did warn you.”
She’s not wrong.
Not even a little.
I step closer, slow and deliberate, like I’m approaching a skittish animal rather than a woman who just upended my evening.
“Come and sit down,” I say gently, guiding her towards the sofa with a hand at her elbow. “Before you reorganise my life standing up.”
She lets me, sinking onto the cushion with a sigh that sounds like she’s been waiting all day.
