Page 144 of Show Me

I did. I can’t lie about that. But even knowing I’m the one who set the rules, it still stings. I drag a hand through my hair. Whatever rules I set don’t feel right. I don’t want her pulling away. Acting like I’m an afterthought. Feeling like she’s unimportant.

I clear my throat. “I don't want a label. Labels become expectations. And expectations become responsibility. People get in your business. Make things complicated. What’s going on between us is no one else’s business.”

People leave when real life happens. When things get messy. At least, when it comes to me, that’s what happens, maybe if there are no labels. Or expectations. This could be different.

Her eyes flash. “See?”

“No.” I shake my head. “That's not what I’m saying.”

“Then what’re you saying?”

The answer catches somewhere in my chest because I know exactly what I mean. I don't know how to explain it.

“I’m saying I want you to stop acting like you’re halfway out the door. Or that you’re shoving me out the door. School. Work.” I swallow hard. “The future. I want to be part of those conversations."

Her breath catches. Small. Almost silent. “And if I don’t?”

If she meant it, I’d walk away even if it tore a jagged piece out of me. But the challenge is weak. I see it in her eyes, so I lean closer. “Then I'm going to keep showing up anyway.”

Her expression cracks. Not completely, but enough. A slow breath leaves her. “You’re unbelievably stubborn.”

A corner of my mouth lifts. “So I’ve heard.”

For the first time all evening, her smile appears. Small. But real. Showing a flash of her radiance. The light that brightens any room she walks into. And like that, the distance between us doesn’t feel so impossible.

Chapter Seventy-Six

Ruby

I wake up to the sound of something sizzling and remain still. Just lie there, staring at the ceiling, trying to place it. Then it clicks. Kitchen. Him. My chest tightens before I can stop it. Last night’s conversation settles around me, filling me with warmth.

No labels, but we’re together. He wants to hear about my plans. Like he doesn’t plan on leaving. I’m not sure what that means, but I’m willing to give it a chance. I have to. It hurts too much to push him away, and it feels too right when we’re together.

I push the blanket back and sit up, taking stock of the room. His phone and keys are on the table by the side of the bed he sleeps on, clothes tossed around the room where we dropped them in our haste to tumble onto the mattress. We were a mess of arms, legs, and kisses that curled my toes.

Heat creeps up my cheeks as I pull his discarded T-shirt over my head before stepping into the hallway. The smell hits me first: eggs, toast, something warm and familiar that shouldn’t feel the way it does. But the feeling hits anyway.

Xavier stands at the stove, one hand braced on the counter, the other moving a spatula across the pan like he’s done it a hundred times here. Like this is routine. Like this belongs to him.

He glances over his shoulder when he hears me. “You’re up.”

“Yeah.” My voice comes out quieter than I expect.

He turns back to the stove. “Give me a minute.”

I hover at the edge of the kitchen. This used to feel… temporary. Him being here. Helping. Fixing things and showing up because something was wrong.

Now…. He moves around the space as he knows it. Like he expects to be here, like he’s not leaving the second the reason disappears.

He grabs a plate, slides eggs onto it, sets it on the counter without asking. “Eat before it gets cold.” His gaze travels over me, eyebrows arching. “Clearly, that shirt looks better on you than it ever did me.”

That heat climbs higher until it blooms across my cheeks. “Thank you.”

He kisses the top of my head, already moving past me toward the sink. His hand brushes my lower back as he passes. Like that also belongs there.

My breath catches before I force it back down. This is what he said. We’re exclusive. We’re together. We’re not looking for an exit plan. And he knows how to make eggs the way I like them. Not a hint of yolk.

He rinses the pan, dries his hands, then moves back toward me, reaching past my shoulder to grab something from the cabinet.