Another shallow breath. “You move to New York. Move in with me. We skip the whole dating-across-the-country thing and just… do this. Together. For real.”
Silence.
She stares at me. I stare back. Somewhere outside, that damn goat is probably destroying more landscaping.
“That’s…” She stops. Starts again. “Dean, that’s insane.”
“Is it?”
“Yes! We’ve known each other—”
“One week, six days, and approximately sixteen hours.”
“You counted?”
“I’m a lawyer. I count everything.” I close the distance between us, boxing her in against the counter. “And you know what? I don’t care. I spent four days without you, and it was the worst four days of my life.”
“Dean—”
“I haven’t passed the bar in California, so I couldn’t work as an attorney there,” I continue, riding the momentum. “But you could build something incredible in New York—if you’re up for it. The wedding planning scene there is insane. The Hudson Valley alone could keep you booked for years. Rich people with country estates and too much money.”
“You’ve thought about this.”
“I’ve thought about nothing else.” My hands find her waist. “The guest cottage becomes your office. You terrorize Manhattan’s elite. I come home to chaos and goats—”
“Dean.”
I frame her face, making her look at me. “I want option two. I want you in my house, in my bed, in my life. Every day. Starting now.”
Her eyes are doing something complicated. Getting shiny. Shit.
“You can’t just—” Her voice cracks. “You can’t just offer me everything I want and expect me to be rational about it.”
“I don’t want you rational. I want you mine.”
“I am yours, you possessive disaster.” She’s definitely crying now. Happy tears, I think. Hope. “But this is crazy. Moving in together after two weeks—”
“I know,” I admit. “It might sound crazy, but…”
“Shut up.” But she’s smiling through the tears. “My whole life is in California. My apartment. My clients. My—”
“Your what?” I challenge. “Your thriving social life? Your deep connections? Your fulfilling existence that definitely doesn’t involve working yourself to death to avoid feeling lonely?”
Direct hit. She glares. “That’s not fair.”
“It’s completely fair. We’re the same, Poppy. Hiding behind work because it’s easier than admitting we want more.”
“And you think more is me moving across the country to live with a man who argues with goats?”
“I think more is us. Together. Figuring it out as we go.” I thumb away a tear. “Unless you want option one. Unless you want to do this the safe way.”
She laughs—tearful and disbelieving. “When have I ever done anything the safe way?”
“So…?”
“So you’re insane. This whole idea is insane. Moving in together, starting over, building a business…” She stops and takes a shaky breath. “It’s completely crazy.”
My heart sinks. “But?”
