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“What kind of music do you listen to?” Her hand reaches toward the bowl again, but I move the bowl just out of her reach, earning a playful slap on the arm.

“My ex was a huge country fan, so I always made sure that’s what I had playing at home or in the car,” she says—more information about her shitty ex that I file in my brain for later.

“But since moving out, I rediscovered my love for boy bands. One Direction, Backstreet Boys, and *NSYNC are my go-to’s.

” She reaches past me to grab more cookie dough for her and Evee, lifting some to Evee’s mouth.

Evee shakes her head once, her little fists coming up to her face and rubbing her eyes just before she rests her head on her mom’s shoulder.

My eyes go to Rumi as she brings her fingers to her mouth. I can’t look away as she sucks the cookie dough off her fingers, watching as she licks some melted chocolate off her lips—the thought of being the one to taste it runs through my brain.

The taste of chocolate would be much better if I was tasting it from her fingers.

From her lips.

“Jack?”

I shake the thought away. “Sorry, what?”

Rumi’s cheeks redden, and her soft smile tells me she caught me staring, but she doesn’t say anything about it. Instead, she asks, “Can I lay her down in one of your extra bedrooms?”

“There aren’t any beds in either one of those rooms yet,” I answer, reminding myself that I need to order that baby stuff as soon as I get the chance.

“Oh, okay. I’ll guess I can just head h?—”

“No,” I interrupt, not even wanting to think about her going home yet. I can’t remember the last time I felt this light, this carefree, this happy in months. I’m not ready for it to end yet. “We can lay her down in my bedroom.”

Rumi watches me carefully. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” There’s a crack in my throat at the thought of Rumi anywhere near my bedroom, even if it’s just to lay her daughter down to sleep.

She ponders for a moment before looking toward the living room behind her. “It’s actually probably better if I can see her, so I think the playmat is a better idea. She’s a pretty heavy sleeper, but we might need to be a little quiet until she’s out.”

“Of course,” I say, and “I’ll put these in while you get her settled. We can save the park for another time since she’s tired.”

“Okay,” she answers, heading toward the living room where we left Evee’s playmat.

With Rumi putting Evee down, I can’t ignore the nervous energy in the air that wasn’t there just a second ago.

Up until now, any time I’ve been with Rumi, we’ve been around other people or it’s been me, her, and Evee. The awareness of it truly just being the two of us with Evee asleep wraps itself around me, causing a flicker in my stomach at the thought.

“What happened to only having a bite?” Rumi asks me, reaching to grab another cookie from the plate between us on the couch.

“These actually aren’t too bad,” I say, finishing the last bite of my second cookie. “Even with all the chocolate chips you added.”

“I’m glad you liked them. The burgers too. I know they’re not for everyone.” She takes a bite of her second cookie.

“What made you decide to go vegan?” I ask, never wanting to stop asking her questions, wanting to learn anything and everything about her.

She chews slowly, her brows furrowed as if she really has to think about the answer. “It wasn’t exactly by choice.” She puts the rest of her cookie back on her plate, wringing her hands together in her lap.

I watch her carefully, waiting for her to continue. I can tell she’s nervous, and that puts me on edge.

“I had to get a kidney removed, and the doctor recommended a vegan diet to reduce my protein load and phosphorus intake, so I didn’t strain my remaining kidney since it was damaged too.”

This catches me off guard, and I feel a wave of protectiveness for her. “What happened? Was it from the accident?”

“No, it was from before. I had, um, a fall before I got pregnant with Evee. But I’m totally fine now. It’s more precautionary than anything.”

Her answer gives me pause, the same way she tries to make it seem like getting an organ removed isn’t a big deal. “You had a fall?” I ask, hoping she’ll tell me what the fuck kind of fall caused enough kidney damage bad enough to need one removed.

Rumi nods. “What about you?” she asks, her tone brighter than it was a second ago, but it feels forced. “Ever broken a bone? Stitches? An organ removed?”

I let her change the subject but just for a moment, leaning back on the couch and crossing my arms. “I broke my arm when I was nine. Bennett pushed me off a table, and I hit my funny bone so hard that it shattered my arm.”

“You broke your funny bone? Is that why you barely smile?” Rumi teases.

“Very funny, pretty girl. Tell me what other battle scars you have.” I need to know more about what happened to her—there’s no way she’s just a lightning rod for accidents.

“Well no kidney, and then I have my scar on my collarbone from the crash last year, and then the one from my C-section.” I don’t think she realizes that she wraps her arms around her midsection as she says the last part, even though she has a sweater already tied around her waist. “But that’s pretty much it. ”

On instinct, my eyes roam her exposed skin on her arms from the tiny pink T-shirt she has on, needing to make sure no other scars adorn her perfect body.

She sits there, body turned slightly toward me, her legs pulled up under her, her denim jeans stretch tight over her knees.

Her shoulders are relaxed, but there’s a tension in the way she holds herself, like she’s waiting for something to shift.

The way she moves her weight to one hip, then back again, makes me feel like she’s trying to make herself comfortable but can’t quite settle until I say something.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” she asks, and I meet her eyes.

“You’re beautiful.” I say it so simply because it’s just the truth.

It’s not what I had planned to say. I think I wanted to ask her more about what happened to her—needing to know why she was driving in the middle of that night, why she was alone, and if she really was running away like I think she was.

“Friends don’t call other friends beautiful,” she says, but it comes out as a whisper. Her blue eyes glisten in the light coming from the lamp behind my couch, the sun no longer out now that it’s past nine.

Three hours with her have passed in what seems like minutes.

Three hours, and it’s not even close to enough.

Three hours, and I don’t think I’ll ever be the same.

“They do when they’re as beautiful as you.”

Her mouth is left slightly ajar, her eyes wide, like she doesn’t believe me.

I’ll tell her every day until she does.

But before I can say anything else, a cry from Evee causes both of us to look over, seeing her rubbing her eyes with her little hands as she wakes up.

Rumi stands up quickly, almost knocking over the plate of cookies between us when she does. “I’ll get her, and then I need to get her home.”

My mind, body, and soul reject the idea as she bends down to grab Evee, and I let my head fall back on the couch.

I knew this friendship with Rumi was dangerous.

Because there’s nothing friendly about how I’m starting to feel about her.