Page 142 of Love By Design

Sinking down onto the edge of the mattress, I dropped my head into my hands with a frustrated groan. I wanted to live here—with Marshall—but it was scary at the same time. We hadn’t been together long and there was very much a part of me that worried once the newness or the novelty wore off, he wouldn’t want to be with me anymore. Biting the corner of my thumbnail, I tried to convince myself my fears were unfounded, but there was only one person strong enough to remind me of that, and it definitely wasn’t the one who’d just bit his nail so close to the quick it was bleeding.

Half an hour later, Lincoln was banging on the door, and I still hadn’t managed to get a bandage around my thumb. I jumped up to let him in, then shuffled off to the bathroom while he busied himself with dishing up our dinner in the dining room. With my hangnail secure, I caught up with my best friend making himself at home at Marshall’s table.

The dining room table.

Our dining room table?

Fucking fuck.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever,” Lincoln said when I sat down beside him.

“I saw you Friday,” I reminded him.

How could I think about moving out when three days felt like a lifetime? I scooted my chair closer to his so I could twine my foot around his ankle. Beside me, Lincoln let out a noise that was half-laugh and half-sigh.

“Do you want me to be home more?” I asked.

He groaned and shook his head. “I want you happy. I just have to get used to how that looks now.”

I pulled the plastic wrapping off the fork and twisted it around my fingers until it was thin enough to tie in a knot. Iwrapped the strip around Lincoln’s wrist and tied it, hooking my finger beneath the plastic to make sure it wasn’t too tight in his arm.

“What’s this?” he murmured, turning his arm upside down to look at the whole piece.

“Like a collar,” I teased gently, “but for best friends.”

Lincoln snorted, knocking into me with his shoulder. “You could have just pissed on me to mark your territory.”

“It’s not like that.” I bumped back into him. “Even if I’m here, I’m still your best friend. Nothing between us has changed except now we aren’t up each other’s asses all the time.”

“It is a small apartment,” he agreed, voice going soft. “But it’s ours.”

“It is.”

“And now…Marshall’s place is yours. His and yours.”

I swallowed hard, dropping my fork. “He does want me to move in, but I haven’t told him yes.”

“Why not?” Lincoln shifted, knees pressing into mine. He took both of my hands into his and kissed the bandage on my thumb. “You love him. Why not? Please don’t say it's because of me.”

“Not only you, but I love that you think so highly of yourself.”

He scrunched his nose at me, and I leaned forward and pressed our mouths together. Lincoln made a surprised sound, but then softened, letting his tongue slide out to search for mine. The kiss was quick and chaste—all history between us considered—but it was enough to ease the tension that had wrapped around us both.

“You’re my best friend,” I said, kissing the corner of Lincoln’s mouth for good measure before pulling away. “That’s never going to change.”

“I think when you move in with him, I’ll probably move too.”

“What?”

Lincoln shrugged, untangling himself from me enough to get to his dinner and start eating. He managed a few bites before answering me.

“There’s no point in having a two bedroom if you’re not there,” he said.

“You can get another roommate.”

“I don’t like the idea of someone in your space.”

Lincoln shoved another bite of lamb into his mouth and made a show of chewing. Picking up the container my salad was in, I gave the whole thing a shake, then opened it up to find the chicken and the sauce mixed in with the lettuce. I took a bite for myself, giving him time to process the conversation.