My belly swoops at the low rumble of his voice. “You want to live together.”
“Yes.”
“Holy shit,”Sammie’s ghost gasps.“You get what he’s saying, right?”
But I want confirmation. The current running between us might burn bright, but my brain needs things spelled out.
“Mr.Broody is asking you to live with him!”Sammie’s ghost yells.“Yes, he loves you!”
A secret hope lights up. Something so sweet, the heady feeling makes me dizzy.
“But why can’t you just move into my flat?” He’s already been living there. We operate well, sharing the place. There’s a schedule for laundry and everything.
His face grows a touch more grumpy.
“Why?” I prod, squeezing his hand. His shoulders could snap they’re so tight.
“The building is owned by the Hallows.”
“And you can’t have that?”
“Yeah,” he admits easily. “I’m not living in another man’s house.”
“But that’s not?—”
His finger tilts my chin upward. “I’m not living in another man’s house.”
It’s not like I’m a kept woman. “I pay rent.” And it’s controlled which means a lot in New York City. “I like my flat.”
The creature of habit comes out. My flat is my safe place. It’s full of natural light, and I know the neighborhood.
It’s as if Tristan knows all the thoughts running through my mind. “We can find something with exposed brick. Something even cozier than what you’ve got.”
Men and their stupid egos.
“I’m not leaving my flat,” I equal parts complain and declare.
Tristan glances at the photo of Mariah. She’s stick thin with gorgeous thick hair. Her smile radiates all her youthful hope. He sighs, his shoulders moving. I instinctively lean in closer, my head resting on his shoulder.
“If I find us a good spot?” he murmurs.
“It’s going to have to be ten times better than what I’ve currently got.” But it’s not a no. When he kisses my forehead, I can feel his smile.
Life settles into a sweet rhythm.
Tristan sleeps in my bed. Sometimes we cuddle, but most of the time I scoot as far away as possible, and he never gets offended. He makes breakfast in the morning. We go to the gym.
He helps me with my contracts. He never makes the hit, but he’s there. Sometimes, he’ll make a comment, but it never comes across as patronizing. It’s simply factual. A way I could have done better or a compliment.
Ren’s Alaskan cruise is over, but she makes a stop in the Midwest to visit her mum. I don’t blame her for taking the time before she has to get back to work.
In some ways I like having only time for Tristan. I didn’t want to be the girl who falls head over heels and needs to take every opportunity she can to fuck her new man.
I can’t fight the addiction. I lean into it more and more.
Sammie’s ghost smiles at me when she’s around. She’s quiet lately. I take this to mean maybe my mind is finding a calmer place. Because even I know I’m not supposed to be seeing my dead sister.
But that’s the thing about ghosts—they always appear when you least expect them.
