Page 39 of The Write Choice

“I was cold.”

That’s the moment I know that she’s trying to shift something between us, because I know she’s lying. Katie is an anomaly of a woman in a lot of ways, but specifically in that she never gets cold. She’s like a hot box, and sleeping next to her is like sleeping next to a space heater under a thermal quilt.

She smirks as if she’s daring me to call her on her bullshit. I gobble that smirk up.

“You want me to turn the heat up?” I arch an eyebrow at her. I know that’s not what she wants. If it were, she’d have done it herself. She’s trying to say she wants to sleep with me. Or, at least, I hope that’s what she’s trying to say.

Her blue eyes turn toward the ceiling, and her expression changes to one of exasperation. A second ago, she wanted to play, but now I know she’s thinking, He’s going to make me say it.

I smile expectantly. Yes, I am going to make her say it.

“No, I…” she trails off, then her gaze lands on me. It’s as if the sight of me makes her feel sure, because she straightens her shoulders. “I was thinking maybe I could stay here for a little while?” When I’m silent, she adds, “With you.”

I try not to read into the fact that she wants to stay in the guest room with me rather than inviting me back to what’s supposed to be our bedroom. Katie is incredibly stubborn, almost painfully so. I found that out after almost a year of asking her to marry me. She lives on her own terms and takes a while to warm up to almost everything. Still, it stings a little. If she’s not inviting me back to our room, this is temporary.

But, just like when I was trying to woo her that first time, I’ll take what I can get. I scoot over on the bed and turn down the covers. She doesn’t waste any time and jumps right in, but she flips over so her back is to me. I close my book and lay it on the nightstand, leaning over to turn off the light. I shift around a bit and settle on my back, one arm under my head and one hand resting on my chest, right where my tattoo is.

She is silent for a moment, then she shimmies backward so her ass is touching my hip. I chuckle softly.

“What?” she asks, but her usual bite is gone. She sounds defeated, actually.

“You really are like a cat. Pressing up against me for attention.”

“I said I was cold.” Now she sounds defensive. “What’s the point of me being in here if you’re not going to warm me up?”

“You don’t have to pretend to need my body heat to be in the same bed as me,” I practically whisper.

She’s silent for a long time. I sigh lightly, trying not to wake her up if she’s fallen asleep. Just as I’m closing my eyes, she violently flips over so she’s facing me, taking half the comforter with her. I gently pull my side back over me, then roll my head to look at her in the thin light from the streetlight filtering in from the small window near the ceiling. Her blue eyes almost glow, and the comforter seductively hugs her curves.

“Why aren’t you touching me?” she asks. It’s not mean or confrontational. She sounds curious.

I know she likes the banter and the playfulness, but I’m suddenly too tired for it. “Honestly?” I ask, and she nods. “I’ve never wanted to touch you more in my life than I do right now, but this feels like a sudden change of heart.”

“Do you need a personal invitation?”

She’s teasing again, trying to get us back on more familiar ground, but I’m not going to take the bait. “Right now, yeah. I do. I want to do what’s best for us, Cat.”

“Including going back to New York?”

I study her in the dim light. It illuminates her almost-white hair with a slight halo that’s mesmerizing. I thought she’d been warming up to the idea of this new life of ours this week, but maybe I’ve been reading her all wrong.

And, honestly, this project is not as straightforward as I had hoped. My parents are more hands-off than I expected. I anticipated the managerial work, but I did not think I would have such a heavy hand in the design. Leading this team is no walk in the park, either. I’m basically doing two jobs at once, and it’s more than I bargained for. I don’t want to give up just yet, but it might be easier to persuade me to go back than it was a few weeks ago.

I flip to my side so I’m facing her. Our heads lay together on the edges of our pillows, our noses about two inches apart. “Is that what you want?”

“I don’t know what I want.” She says it so fast, I don’t think she considered the words before they tumbled out of her mouth. When her eyes widen slightly, I know she’s surprised that the possibility of staying here isn’t as abhorrent as it used to be.

When her eyes stay wide, something shifts in her face. She looks vulnerable, almost scared. Katie is normally so guarded, completely committed to the stoic façade she insists on keeping up. I haven’t seen this particular expression since the night she told me she was pregnant with Mason. I had crawled into bed next to her, even though she had told me to leave. I could tell she was saying it to give me an out. She was terrified, so much so that she couldn’t see how over the moon I was about the whole thing. I already knew that I was in love with her; it’s why I banged on her door after a week of ignored calls. And I knew I wanted to be a dad long before that. I wanted to spend as much time with her as I could, and I wanted that baby in my arms. I certainly didn’t care if it happened a little earlier than I had expected.

But, that night, she floated away. It was the strangest thing. She hopped from cloud of worry to cloud of worry, climbing higher and higher with each new concern. And what was stranger still was she told me everything that went through her mind. Every single thing she feared, both tiny and massive, came tumbling out as I saw her growing more and more adrift. Her eyes became glassy and focused on some point in the distance as she floated on her anxiety.

I didn’t know what to do. I was twenty-four, idealistic, and stupid. All I knew is that I wanted her to stay with me, so I grabbed her hand and told her that. I said, “Stay with me, Katie. I’ve got both of you.” And she started inching her way back to me.

Now, Katie’s body might be ready, but I need to be sure her brain has caught up. So, I try to ground her in the moment, to not let her slip away again.

“Do you want to be in this bed with me?” I start small. Give her tangible things she can focus on.

Her eyes remain wide as she nods, and a piece of hair falls across her face. My fingers itch to touch it, then to drag themselves across the soft line of her jaw, over her full lips. I restrain myself, though. I need her fully here with me.