me, it’ll be pancakes, eggs, steak, and potatoes all the time because that’s about all I can cook that turns out edible.” He set her plate in front of her.
“I guess we’ll have to take turns.”
He sat and picked up his fork. “Works for me.” They both dug into the food and settled into the wonder of their engagement.
“What kind of wedding do you want?”
Her question kind of surprised him, because he hadn’t really thought about the details, except that she’d be his wife. That’s all he really wanted. Except for one other thing. “Fast.”
She laughed again. “It took me forever to get you, now you’re in a hurry.”
“I know what I want. You and me here, making more memories.”
She placed her hand over his on the table. “You’re sweet.” She glanced around the open kitchen and living room. “I like this setup, but we should expand the living room. We’ll need the space for the kids.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Something you want to tell me?” They’d been careful, but things happen.
She chuckled. “Not yet. But I’d like to try sooner rather than later. I’m not getting any younger.”
“Whenever you’re ready.”
“Really?” Her eyebrows shot up. “You want to be a dad?”
He chewed a roasted potato bite and nodded. “I’m a little terrified, but also excited. Drake and Adria are expecting. I think it’d be cool to have our kids grow up together.”
Her eyes went soft and dreamy. “Me too. But I think we should have some time for the two of us. Six months. A year.”
“I’d like that.” They’d shared this whirlwind romance, though it had been a long time in the making. Still, he’d like them to enjoy it for a while. As husband and wife. He wanted that commitment.
She wiped a drip of cheese sauce from her mouth, set her napkin down, and asked, “I’m sure you’ve thought about the addition. What’s the plan?”
He told her what he had in mind, taking her suggestions and wishes, adding them to the plan in his head. “I found an architect to draw up the official plans. He’ll need a couple weeks to get it done.”
“I’ll pay half the cost.”
“I’ve got the money for it.”
“Tate. We’re partners. We’ll figure out the financials together.”
“I want to take care of you and give you everything you want.”
“I want to do the same thing for you. So how about we do it together?”
He sat back and stared at her a little frustrated but also glad she wanted to work with him and not spend money they didn’t have. “Is this how we’re going to fight in the future?”
“Ready to make up with me?” Her sexy smile faded when a series of texts came through on her phone. She pulled it out of her back pocket and read them. Her face paled. “Oh God.”
“What?” He leaned forward and put his hand on her shoulder, ready to hear about whatever terrible thing Clint had done this time. Because it had to be him.
“It’s Ava. My neighbor.” Her eyes glassed over and filled with a devastated look he wanted gone. “My place is on fire.”
“Jeez.” Tate never expected that. “Just your place, or the whole building?”
Liz texted Ava. “It started in my place. The fire department is there trying to get it under control before it spreads.” She stood and glanced around for her purse. “We need to stop at the house for my bag and get over there.”
“Leave it. Let’s just go.”
“No. I need my ID and insurance information.”
They both knew Clint probably had something to do with the suspicious fire. He’d figured out a way to ruin another day for him and Liz.
If Tate got his hands on Clint, it would be the last time.
Poor Liz. If her place had completely burned, she had nothing but the clothes she’d brought here. That was something, but Tate hated that Clint took everything else she owned.
Fucking asshole. When will we be rid of him?
They had all they needed here, but still. She’d worked hard to create a home that reflected who she was and what she liked. She’d filled it with her things. Her memories.
Possessions didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. Still, the loss sucked for her.
But as long as they had each other, they had a hell of a lot more than most.
And maybe this time, Clint would get exactly what he deserved.
Chapter Thirty
Liz stood beside Tate, hands clasped tight, staring up at her blackened balcony. Then the roof caved in, smoke and flames