He takes my hand guiding me back down the stairs and through the kitchen.
“This is the only room that’s actually finished,” he tells me, swinging the door open.
A large mahogany desk takes up one wall, a large screen mounted behind it. A comfortable looking armchair rests in the corner. And a chair, identical to the one in the flat, sits underneath the desk.
“Obviously you can change whatever you want, and I left space for you to bring your computer tower.”
“What?” I ask quietly, my mind whirring as I try to process what’s in front of me.
“Look, I even tracked down the chair for you. I set it up myself. I thought maybe I could see if there was a part missing, maybe some extra padding, but nope it’s as it is.”
He stands behind it and gives it an experimental swing as he shoots me a cheeky smile.
I take in his expression, the room he’s designed, before I glance at the chair under his hands.
And then I burst into tears.
His eyes widen as he crosses the room to me, pulling me into his arms and burying my face in his chest.
“Hey hey, I’m sorry this is too much. It’s the wrong time to show you this, maybe I should have waited and got all your stuff in here first. But I just didn’t know how to do thatwithout stealing. We can send this chair back and bring your old one in.”
I take heaving breaths as I finally choke out. “I hate that chair.”
He pulls my face back with a glint in his eyes. “Sorry, can you repeat that?”
I sniff, pushing my glasses up my nose. “I hate it, it’s uncomfortable and makes my back hurt and I can never actually cross my legs without my stupid knees bumping into the stupid desk.”
“You’re saying you hate the chair? Rosie Taylor, after all that.”
“I’m sorry,” I wail.
His body shakes beneath me with a laugh, and he tugs my face to his chest, letting me bury my face in his soft t-shirt.
Eventually my tears subside. “Wait.” I pull back to face him.“Why did you buy it?”
“Well, now I kind of regret it, to be honest. It was a bitch to put together. But you liked it so I wanted you to like it here too.” He shrugs.
I furrow my brow. “Jackson, please. What is happening here?”
His eyes widen, realizing that I have spent the past fifteen minutes thinking he was showing off his new house. “I want you to like it here because I want you to live here with me. You and the baby.”
I blink rapidly. “You don’t—you don’t want to split custody?”
“What?” he gasps, eyes widening. “No!God no, I want to be with you, both of you. I want you here where it’s safe and we can sleep together every night and get a sofa big enough to nap on and a shower separate to the bath.”
“You want me to move in with you?”
He nods, wiping away a stray tear from underneath my glasses. “Yeah, pretty girl, I want you to move in with me.”
He presses a soft kiss to my lips, still salty from my tears. “I know it’s a lot. It’s been a crazy few hours, but when you said you couldn’t go home last night I just…I couldn’t wait for a second longer. I want you to be safe and comfortable. Here. With me.”
The thought of going back to the flat already felt hollow. I’ve spent months worrying about what I’m going to do, how I’m going to raise a baby and afford the rent, and get rid of the stubborn mold that keeps growing in the bathroom.
“I know you love the flat so if you want to?—”
“I don’t love the flat,” I say firmly. “I love it when you’re there with me.”
I bite my lip, so close to spilling the truth.
