Page 103 of Slapshot Baby

"How about your dad?" he asks.

My fingers tighten on the glass. "Not much to tell. He's around sometimes."

He watches me for a beat. Then he reaches across the table and steals a bite of my risotto.

"Hey," I say, grateful for the redirect. "Get your own risotto."

"Yours is better."

"You haven't tasted yours yet."

"I tasted yours. I'm content."

I retaliate by stabbing a piece of his chicken off his plate.

"That's theft," he says.

"You started it."

"I took a small taste."

"There's no such thing as a small taste from my plate, Kai. You either have your own food or you have a problem."

We eat. The risotto really is absurdly good.

As we talk, Kai keeps threading quiet observations into the conversation.

“Your shampoo has been in my shower for two weeks.” This, while I’m telling him about a client who wanted floor-to-ceiling marble in a closet-sized bathroom.

“Biscuit knows where I keep her treats.” Said as I’m laughing over Lucy’s latest text.

“Your desk calendar system is the only reason I make my appointments.” Delivered while he refills my water, his eyes fixed on me over the glass.

Each detail is a brick. He’s laying them one by one, building a case with systematic patience.

“Move in with me,” he says.

The words land between us like a puck dropped at center ice. I stop chewing.

"What?"

"You heard me."

My eyebrows arch. "I'm giving you a chance to say something less insane."

"You're at my apartment most days. Your dog has claimed my couch. Stop pretending you live somewhere else."

“So you want me to move in with you because you care if I pretend or not?”

His eyes fill with desire. “You know exactly what I’m saying.”

I look away. "I live somewhere else. And I’ve made a down payment."

"Bring Biscuit. Bring the seven stray cats."

"There are no current cats."

He leans forward."Move in with me, Ava. As my girlfriend. Not fake."