Page 20 of Mr. Brightside

Shit.

Yep. There’s only one bedroom.

“There is,” I answer honestly, racking my brain to come up with a solution before he changes his mind. I obviously hadn’t thought that through when I asked him to move in here. I promised him we could take things slow; guess I forgot to mention the one-bed situation.

He shakes his head, a mix of amusement and disbelief gracing his expression.

“This whole scenario is straight out of a rom-com. You know that, right?”

I see a shot and seize it.

“I call dibs on Jude Law playing me if they ever make our story into a movie.”

“In what version of reality would Jude Law play the gay Latinx in the relationship?” he deadpans.

I smirk at his quick wit.

“I didn’t know you were Latinx,” I throw out. If he wants to share with me, I want to know. I want to know as much as I can about him, everything, really. Now that we’re doing this, I’m all in. But I keep my tone casual, just in case it’s something he’d rather not talk about.

He nods and holds my gaze. “My mom and grandma are from Puerto Rico. My dad’s from Pennsylvania, though, and I was born here in the States.”

“That’s awesome. God, I feel like there’s so much I don’t know about you…” I trail off when I catch that look of uncertainty in his expression again. “But we have time. I promise you; we have time.”

That brings me back to the whole reason we got off topic in the first place.

“So listen, I’ll sleep on the couch for the foreseeable future. I fall asleep out here half the time anyway. And when I close at The Oak, I’m not home until two or three.”

“And what about the unforeseeable future?” he asks, that one perfect eyebrow cocked high in challenge. God, he’s quick—I love how he challenges me and pushes back. I could shoot the shit with him all day.

“I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.” I resist winking at him for the third time tonight, but it’s tempting. It feels good to flirt after being so strung out and stressed these last few days.

“I guess we will,” he relents. He looks around the apartment again, and I give him a minute to take it in.

I track his gaze as he assesses the space, and I mentally make note of some of the things I’ll need to do before he moves in—making room on the bookshelves, cleaning out my desk so it’s functional for both of us.

It’s strange to be making a list of domestic chores. Even stranger that it’s intended to make room for my husband.

Husband.

That’s going to take some getting used to. But I’m not panicked or filled with dread at the prospect of getting married—not like I thought I’d be. I’m actually excited about this—ecstatic that this is going to work. A lot of that has to do with him.

His yawn pulls me out of my meandering thoughts. A quick glance at the clock confirms it’s almost one a.m. It feels too—pushy? To invite him to spend the night now. I don’t want him to think this is some sort of test.

“You gonna get going?” I ask, wanting to make sure he knows I don’t have expectations about the rest of the night. As if the next two years of his life aren’t enough…

He nods through another yawn and gives me a sheepish smile. As he’s shifting forward to stand, I reach out and stroke his arm, halting his movements and freezing him in place.

“I have to know something before you leave,” I murmur.

I don’t know if it’s my tone or the words themselves, but that gets his attention. He turns back to face me, his head cocked in question.

“Whodoyou want to play you in the movie?”

He busts out laughing, then bats my arm away before slapping my knee playfully. “You’re going to be a handful as a husband, aren’t you?”

I stick my tongue in my cheek and eye him up and down before responding as he walks toward the door. “You and I both know that I’m more like two handfuls.”

Chapter 10