Page 24 of Ready or Not (The Nape #I)
“I—uhm…” he started, running a hand through his curls in that telltale way he did when he was trying to play it cool but failing miserably.
“It’s just a drawer. You don’t have to like…
move in or anything. I just figured—y’know—you always leave stuff here anyway and you’re here so much so why—I don’t know—I thought it’d be.
.. nice for you to have some stuff here so you can feel more at home when you’re here,” He trailed off, his voice softer now.
“My mamá loves to say that a man’s space says more about him than his mouth ever can, so… uhm… yeah…”
I stared at the drawer, then at him, then back at the drawer.
My fingers tightened on the keycard and key in my hand, the metal pressing into my palm like an unspoken question.
A drawer.
A key.
His place.
He had made space for me—not just physically, but in his life. For the past five months of us being together, Desi had been so full of surprises, equal parts playful and intentional. He’d put his heart into everything in ways that always left me breathless.
But this?
It surpassed the court-side seats to the Yankees game?—
No… this was right up there with the grand gesture of asking me to be his girlfriend.
Though it was done casually, this was him saying, without actually saying it:
You belong here.
With me.
My chest tightened, like every emotion I'd buried was rushing at me all at once. It was overwhelming in the most beautiful way, and I suddenly didn’t care if Naomi and the others would tease me later for being late.
“Des…” I raised my eyes to meet his. I didn’t even know what I was going to say; the words still formed formless shapes in my head. However, before I could finish—or stumble over the explanation—he leaned in and kissed me.
The kiss wasn’t a playful, teasing kind of kiss he’d been giving me all morning or the ones that tasted like temptation.
This one was something else entirely.
It was steady, unhurried, full of unspoken promises and careful intention. His lips moved against mine like they were planting roots, quiet promises blooming in places words couldn’t reach..
My fingers curled instinctively into the front of his shirt— God, when did he even put one on? —and I let myself fall into it for just a moment longer than I should have.
When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against mine, his hands sliding down to lace with my own.
“You don’t have to say anything,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I just… I just wanted you to know, even though we haven’t been with each other that long. I really like you and I want you to feel at home here and?—”
“I know,” I finished for him. My free hand stayed curled in his shirt as if letting go might make the moment evaporate into thin air. “I know, baby.”
His forehead stayed pressed to mine, and for a few heartbeats, neither of us moved. His hands squeezed mine gently, and though he didn’t say anything, I could feel it—everything he wanted me to understand but couldn’t put into words.
I stepped back slightly, just enough to look up at him fully. His dark eyes searched mine for some sign—whether for reassurance, acceptance, or something else entirely, I didn’t know.
But what I did know was that he’d opened a door I hadn’t even realized we were standing in front of.
And as I stood there, clutching that small, carefully presented key in one hand, it hit me—this wasn’t just about a drawer or a keycard or even his apartment.
This was about the space he’d carved out in his world for me, the way he shifted his life to make room for mine.
It was something bigger.
Something scarier.
Something I hadn’t let myself fully think about until now.
I used to run from this kind of thing, yet I knew without a doubt that today… I wanted to walk through that door.
"Okay," I said, my voice steadier than I expected. His brow lifted in question, his lips parting as though he was about to ask what I meant, but I didn’t give him the chance. "Let’s do it. The drawer. The key. All of it."
His arms tightened around me reflexively, pulling me closer, as if he thought I might take the words back if he let go too soon.
"Yeah?" his voice tinged with disbelief, the cocky confidence from earlier melting into something softer, more vulnerable.
"Yeah," I whispered back, letting out a breath I hadn’t realized I'd been holding.
His smile grew slowly, wide and bright like morning sunshine creeping across the room. And there it was—his whole heart written on his face for me to see without a single guard up.
“So… a drawer, huh?” I teased softly after a moment, hoping to lighten the weight that threatened to steal my voice. “You give a girl a whole drawer and a set of keys? Bold move.”
The corner of his mouth twitched upward into that cocky smirk I’d come to both love and curse. “What can I say? I’m generous like that.”
I laughed, lightly swatting his arm. “Generous, huh? That’s what we’re calling it?”
“That’s exactly what we’re calling it.”
“Well,” I tilted my head to look at him through narrowed eyes. “I guess I could find a few things to keep in that drawer. Maybe.”
“Really?”
“Really,” I stood on my tiptoes to press a quick kiss to his cheek before stepping back. “Okay, now I gotta go.”
"Yeah, yeah," he sighed dramatically, releasing my hand but not before brushing his thumb against my palm one last time. "Go be a good friend. Save me some gossip for later."
"Deal," I said, grinning at him as I slipped the keycard and key into the inside pocket of my leather bag. I couldn’t stop the giddy warmth that spread through my chest every time I thought about them resting there—a tangible piece of him I was taking with me.
Out in the building hallway, I glanced back to find him leaning against the doorframe, watching me go with that familiar, crooked grin, his arms casually crossed over his chest. "Oh, and Butterfingers?"
I paused mid-step, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah?"
"Don’t forget," he said, voice dropping to that velvet tone he reserved for moments like this, "Come back home to me.”
My heart skipped a beat at the sound.
Come back home to me.
“I will,” I called back, pressing for the elevator button. “I promise.”