I open my mouth to backpedal; before I can get a word out, Turner exhales sharply and leans back in the booth, shaking his head like he’s trying to process it.
Then,
“Jesus Christ, Poppy,” he says finally, voice low but incredulous, “I thought you never wanted to see me again. Now you’re talking babies—” A grin breaks across his face. “—This isgreatfucking news.”
It is?
I sit up straighter.
“If there’s even a version of reality where you’d consider having a baby with me, I’m calling that a win.”
He is?
“You are?”
He nods. “Fuck yes. We haven’t known each other long so I don’t know what this is, but goddamn, these past few weeks have sucked.”
My chest tightens, but before I can respond, he leans forward, hands sliding across the table until they’re wrapped around mine.
“The place has gone to shit,” he says solemnly.
I let out a short laugh, the knot in my stomach loosening. “Don’t be dramatic.”
“Ihaveto be dramatic. I won’t have a place to live soon.”
That makes my head snap up. “Wait—what?”
“Fucking Luca wants to sell the house so he and Nova can unload her apartment and buy something together. She obviously hates our place or she’d just move in, right? Either way, Cash and I have to find new spots. He gave us about six months, but I’m not going to wait. They’re already talking paint colors and upgrades, and you know what that means…”
Turner needs a place to stay.
Turner is moving.
“So what’s your plan?”
His mouth curves, that slow grin that gets me every time. “Thought I’d move in with you.”
He’s joking. Iknowhe’s joking.
Still.
My grin tips into something equally dangerous. “Obviously.” I let the pause stretch, just long enough for him to notice. “We have a lot of catching up to do.”
His foot hooks mine beneath the table, a casual trap I don’t bother escaping. “By catching up, do you mean banging and oral?”
I do miss the oral…
I lean forward, presenting him with enough to make his eyes drop from my eyes. “Wow. You skipped right over movie nights and cooking dinner together.”
“Those are implied,” he deadpans.
The idea of sharing space with him again makes my chest feel fizzy and warm, like champagne bubbles expanding behind my ribs.
“You’d have to pull your weight,” I warn, trying to keep my voice steady. “Cooking, cleaning, killing spiders.”
“Youlovehaving me around.”
I pretend to think about whether or not I actually do, twirling a straw between my fingers. “Hmm. Youdokeep the coffee pot full.”
