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“Okay?”

“It’s for the Connecticut affiliate.”

I’m surprised and lost.

“Carter—”

“What is it?”

“If I take this job, I’ll need to relocate.”

“Okay?”

“Carter—Here, to Connecticut.”

Carter, you idiot. I smile at Brooklyn. “Brooklyn, are you asking me if you can move in with me?”

“I—I—”

I silence her with a kiss. “Let me rephrase that. Brooklyn, I would love it if you would live here with me.”

“I’m not trying to put you on the spot.”

Time for a deeper conversation. I’ve avoided diving into this possibility because I never want to push Brooklyn. It isn’t easy. I try to let her dictate the pace of our relationship, if not always its direction. I sit up and pull her to sit beside me. “I was prepared to move to New York if you wanted me to.”

“You love this house,” Brooklyn says.

“Not more than I love you.”

“I don’t want to push you.”

Laughable. “I think we need to set some things straight,” I tell her. “I can work anywhere.”

“Yes, but—”

“Brooklyn? Can you let me get this out?”

“Sorry.”

“I try not to hold back with you.”

“I don’t want you to hold back with me,” she says.

“I know. Sometimes, I do—just a little.”

Brooklyn looks worried.

“Not the way you’re thinking. I hate when we’re apart. You have to know that.”

“I hate it too,” she says.

“I know you do. With you—well, let’s just say I’m not sure there’s much I wouldn’t be willing to try.”

A seductive grin curls the corners of Brooklyn’s mouth. To some it might seem an inappropriate response. I’m grateful. She knows I’m struggling to open up to her about what I want. It’s her way of diffusing my tension.

“Cute,” I say. “There isn’t anything I want more than for you to live with me. I don’t want you to take this job because you think living here is more important to me than you.”

“I know it’s not,” Brooklyn says.