“You baked me cookies—” She immediately stares at my feet and takes in my appearance, suddenly aware that I’m not dressed to be standing out here. “Oh my gosh! Get in here. You are insane for leaving the house in that today, it’s freezing out there.”
Oh, I know.
“Yeah, I didn’t think it was going to bethiscold out, to be honest.” I shiver as I step into the warmth of her home.
“I’ll be right back,” she says as she shuts the front door behind us, and she walks past me into the all-white kitchen.
She gently sets the cookies on the counter, then immediately walks out of the room.
When she enters the kitchen again, she has the softest, fluffiest cream blanket in her hands. She walks over and hands me the tangible cloud with the slightest smile on her red lips.
I can’t believe she brought me a blanket. I had zero expectations past getting in the door. And yet here I am, about to propose to this gorgeous girl because she brought me a fuzzy blanket.
It doesn’t take much to steal my heart. Give me a cozy blanket, a book, or delicious pastries? I’m already in love. Which has kind of always been my biggest issue. I always fall way too fast and way too hard. By the time I’m making honeymoon plans in my head, the other person is figuring out how to end it. I’ve been called clingy, too much, even annoying, usually while getting dumped.
It used to bother me. It made me want to act how I thought my exes wanted me to. And for a while, I did exactly that. But in the midst of pretending to be what everyone else wanted, I lost myself for years. And it took me just as long to find myself again.
So, yes, I love fast, and I love hard. I would rather spend my free time with my partner at my side than apart. I can be a lot, even obnoxious at times, but that’s just who I am, and I fucking love me.
I envelop myself in the heaven that is this blanket as Kat walks to the fridge.
She pulls out a bottle of wine and says, “Would you like a glass?”
Would I like an excuse to stay here with you longer? Yes.
“Yes, please. Thank you,” I respond as I lean against the white marble countertop of her island.
I can’t resist studying her as she glides over to a cabinet, pulling two stemless wineglasses out and gently setting them on the counter. She is wearing black leggings that hug her every curve and a soft red sweater, which looks so soft that I want to pet it. Definitely not because of what is under it, of course.
Her chocolate-brown hair is wavy, half pulled up in a messy bun. She looks amazing, but I can’t imagine there is ever a time when she doesn’t look incredible, not because of what she’s wearing or her makeup, but just her natural beauty.
She fills our glasses and hands me one of them. “Here you go.”
I graciously accept it. “Thank you.”
She gestures to the living room with her eyebrows raised.
Nodding, I follow her as she leads the way to her cream couch, which looks so brand-new, like no one has used it. Anxiety makes me very aware of how I’m holding my wine glass while sitting on this easily stained couch.
With the blanket still wrapped around my shoulders, I sit on the opposite end of the couch, doing my best to ignore the electricity in the air.
Stupid small-talk questions pop up in my mind, but I stop myself from asking her if she is liking the weather.
“Where did you and your husband live before?”
At the mention of her husband, she seems to look agitated. She doesn’t say anything for a moment, and I begin to question if I should have asked her about the weather.
But then she says, “We lived in North Pole, Alaska. Actually, that’s where Nic is from. But once his company really started taking off, his headquarters were established here in Albany. We stayed in Alaska for a while, and he worked remotely until we made arrangements to move here. Personally, I like Albany more than I ever did North Pole.”
“That is one hell of a big move. I’m glad you’re liking it here though. Is Nic enjoying it here too?” I ask, selfishly prodding to see if I can get a read on Nic and her.
Her jaw clenches, and I think I might have the answer.
“It’s complicated and a long story,” she says, not meeting my eyes. I can’t help but see the tightness in her jaw and tenseness in her shoulders.
“I’ve got the time and the ear if or when you ever want to talk about it. But tell me about yourself. We should have met months ago, so now, we need to make up for the lost time,” I joke, just wanting her to share anything… everything.
I take a rather large drink of my wine.
