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“Where did she sleep last night?”

Noah took a drink.

Cole nodded. “Your couch.”

“She likes the couch.”

“Nobody likes a couch that much.”

“You’re not thinking about asking her to move in.”

Noah looked at him. “Not exactly.”

Cole leaned back. “Oh.”

“Don’t make it weird.”

“You’re thinking about proposing.”

“I said don’t make it weird.”

“You’re sure?” Cole asked.

Noah did not have to think about it. “Yeah.”

“That fast?”

“I’ve had months to think about it.”

He wanted ordinary Tuesdays. Coffee before either of them was fully awake. Claire correcting his baking measurements. Family holidays and bookstore trips and a real Christmas tree next year.

He wanted every version of the future that had begun quietly arranging itself around her.

He did not wonder whether he wanted to marry Claire.

He wondered whether she was ready to hear that he did.

Noah hesitated. “She spent a long time believing needing someone meant losing part of herself,” he said. “I don’t ever want her to feel like I’m rushing her into my version of a life.”

Cole was quiet for a moment. “Is it only your version?”

Noah thought about the oat milk in his refrigerator and the row of Claire’s mugs beside his. Her books had slowly taken over one end of the shelf. Her shoes stayed beside his door. Her charger had become a permanent fixture beside the couch, and every morning, she wandered into his kitchen before either of them had fully woken up.

She had given him a key to her apartment, but somehow, they always ended up in his.

She spent holidays with his family. Ainsley called her Aunt Claire.

They bought groceries together and chose Christmas ornaments as though there had never been any question that they would need another one next year.

No. It was not only his version of a life.

“No,” he admitted. “It’s just that she fought hard for her independence. Moving here. Starting over. Building her career. I don’t want her to think marrying me means giving any of that up.”

Cole frowned. “Has Claire ever acted like being with you cost her something?”

Noah thought about how she had looked that morning, sitting at his counter in one of his hoodies while reviewing presentation notes. She had kissed him goodbye, taken his coffee with her by accident, and texted ten minutes later to apologize.

“No.”