Never Ever

52| Say it

For a second, I can only stare at him. His words continue to rattle around my head, colliding with every other thought until nothing makes sense anymore.

I want you to move in with me.

Move in.

With me.

If my complete lack of a reaction worries Noah, he doesn't show it. He looks sure of himself as he carefully watches me, like he's already made peace with whatever answer I give him. I, on the other hand, can feel myself spiraling as I try to work out whether this is something he's thought through or yet another impulse. It was only last week that we were spending Christmas miles apart and preparing for a new year without each other.

"You don't have to say yes right now," he says, like he already knows where my mind has gone. "Or ever, if it isn't what you want. You could stay here, or just visit whenever you want. No pressure. But if you do move in with me–" he pauses, allowing his eyes to trail my face, "–know that I will spend every day trying to make you as happy as you make me."

I feel the tiniest expanse of air escape my lungs. I want to say yes. God, I want to say yes. But fear is stitched into my bones, and I wouldn't be me without a little hesitation. "I don't know," I say, even though I do. I know exactly what I want. I want cozy mornings under the sheets and evenings tangled in them. I want a home with him. "What if it's too soon? This morning we weren't even together, and now you're asking me to move in with you. What if you regret it?"

"I won't." Noah steps closer, fingertips brushing the side of my arm in reassurance. "I'm not sure if you've realized this, Blue, but renting a house isn't something you do overnight." The corner of his mouth lifts, enough to loosen the knot in my stomach. "I signed the lease weeks ago. Before the diagnosis. I knew I wanted to wake up next to you every morning without Jesse breathing down our neck, so I started looking for a house."

I blink, trying to process the fact that this was in the works long before any break-up or diagnosis, when he suddenly says in a low voice, "I told you once before. When I'm in, I'm all in." He brings my hands to his chest, over the steady pulse beneath his ribs. "And I am all in with you, Blue."

It's at this moment that the weight of it all finally dawns on me. He rented a house. An entire house. For me. For us. For a future he wants to build with me. A future I want too. And even though I'm terrified of making such a big commitment, at least I feel safe enough to admit it. "I'm scared, Noah."

"I'm scared too," he replies, and somehow that makes me feel better. He's always been good at being vulnerable around me; it's what taught me to let myself be vulnerable around him too. "Just not about this." He shifts closer, his forehead brushing my temple as his hand drifts from my hip to my wrist, then lower, until his fingers thread through mine. "Come on," he says, pulling me toward the French doors. "At least let me give you a tour."

Reluctantly, I let him lead me into the living room, where the scent of new paint and bleach still clings to the walls. A sprawling white sofa sits in the corner, big enough for Noah, Addy, Jesse and me to squeeze together under blankets for late-night documentary marathons. Opposite it, a compact kitchen stretches beneath a long breakfast bar, somewhere I can already imagine Noah cooking dinner while he watches me swim laps through the bay window. I see all of it. Every memory we haven't made yet. Every version of us we could be. But it all starts with now.

"Yes."

Noah turns so fast that I think he's going to topple over. His eyebrows draw together in confusion. "Yes?"

"Yes," I say again, a smile spreading across my face. "I'll move in with you."

He stares for a beat, like he needs a second to process. "But I haven't even shown you the rest of the house."