He takes a deep breath. “I’m afraid I'll get there and realize this is exactly what I want. And then I'll have to figure out what that means for us."
The honesty stings.
But I’m glad he’s saying it and not me. But it sucks because it means we’re both seeing this thing through clear eyes.
We let his comment hang between us. We don’t have to talk about it. We know. We just know.
We complete the loop around the park and head back to the house.
"Want to make dinner?" Declan asks. "I'm starving, and the airport food was terrible."
"Sure. What do you want?"
"Anything. I just want to be in the kitchen with you doing normal couple things."
So we make pasta. Nothing fancy. Just spaghetti with marinara and garlic bread. We move around the kitchen in that familiar dance we’ve perfected over the last few weeks.
Normal. Easy. The way it used to be before everything got complicated.
"I like this," he says as we sit down to eat at the kitchen table.
"What?"
"This. Us. Just existing together without all the drama." He twirls pasta on his fork.
"Me too,” I murmur.
But even as I say it, I know it's not sustainable. Normal requires stability. And we don't have that, not with all the unspoken things sitting between us.
After dinner, we clean up together. Load the dishwasher. Wipe down counters.
"Want to watch something?" he asks.
"Actually, I'm kind of tired. Long week."
"Yeah, me too. Miami was fun but exhausting." He takes my hand. "Bed?"
We go upstairs to his room. I grab clothes from my dresser to change into—a tank top and sleep shorts. He changes into boxers and nothing else.
We climb into bed, and he pulls me against him, my back to his chest, and his arm around my waist.
"I missed this," he murmurs into my hair. "Just holding you."
"I missed it, too."
His hand slides under my shirt, resting on my stomach. Not sexual. Just intimate. Connected.
"Sutton?" His voice is quiet in the dark.
"Yeah?"
"Are you okay? You've seemed—I don't know—off."
"I'm fine. Just tired. Lots on my mind."
"Want to talk about it?"
"Not really. Not tonight."
