She stares at me so long I start to feel uncomfortable under her gaze.
Or maybe I don’t want her to see right through me.
Finally, she sighs, nodding once. “Okay. It never happened then. So, move-in day?”
7
Maya
I didn’t stay much longer at Nolan’s, the mood shifting firmly into awkwardness.
We settled on Monday, the day the boutique is closed, and a day Nolan happened to have off.
It didn’t leave me much time to get things packed, but I managed to tape up the last box minutes before Nolan arrived.
He’s prompt, I’ll give him that.
But I appreciate it since I’m dead tired and already looking forward to getting this day over with so I can crawl into bed and rest. I have never been more thankful for Patrick’s shitty work schedule in my life. We switched weeks around and it worked out perfectly that Sam’s at his father’s during this whole mess of moving.
“Is this everything?” He peers around the bare apartment. “It’s not much.”
He’s right. It’s not.
When I moved out of Patrick’s, I was starting over. I didn’t want to be burdened by things of my past, so I packed light.
I would have thought in the last two years I’d fill in the missing spaces, but I haven’t.
That’s definitely a blessing right now.
“I figured we could move my couch in while we’re staying there if you’re okay with that. Other than that, the only other big stuff is our beds and Sam’s desk. I put everything else in storage. Hopefully, we won’t be there long, so no need to move all the large items several times.”
“Did you hire someone to move your furniture? Because I have a truck…”
“It’s no big deal.” I wave my hand. “I had some people who are still left in the building help out. There are a few older guys downstairs I paid in beer and pizza, so whatever.”
And a hundred bucks, but he doesn’t need to know that.
He nods. “All right. Let’s get this all loaded up then. Should take only two trips.”
I help Nolan load his truck, and I’m grateful he doesn’t try to pull the shit most guys do and make me sit on the sidelines because I’m a woman.
By the time we have the first load strapped in—which is mostly our beds and Sam’s desk—I’m sweating.
“You good?” Nolan asks as I lean against the tailgate of his truck, working to catch my breath.
He takes up the spot next to me, folding those big arms of his over his chest, his green flannel shirt stretching across his muscles.
I don’t even have the energy to focus on how close he’s standing and how even though we’ve been moving stuff for the last hour and sweating, he still smells so damn good.
“Yeah. Just tired.” As if on cue, my stomach growls.
Nolan chuckles. “And hungry apparently.”
“Guilty. I didn’t get a chance to eat this morning. Too busy worrying about getting everything packed, and I forgot.”
“Want to grab something on the way to our place?”
Our place.
His phrasing sends a tingle down my spine.
I like that he does that—doesn’t make me feel like I’m intruding on his space. To him, no matter how short my stay is, this is my apartment too. It helps lessen how much I feel like a burden.
“If it’s not too much trouble…”
He shakes his head, pushing off the truck and moving around to the driver’s side. “Not at all. I could use something myself. Had to get some blood work done this morning, so I should probably eat something.”
I shift my head back. “Blood work? Is everything okay?”
“Yep. Just a checkup.”
“You get checkups?”
He tilts his head, furrowing his brows, looking at me over the bed of the truck. “Aren’t I supposed to?”
“Well, yeah. I guess I’m just surprised. Most guys don’t do the doctor. You have to twist their arms to get them to go.”
“Most guys or your ex?”
My cheeks heat. “Well, I guess he’s really the only guy I’ve ever known in that capacity.”
Something flashes in his eyes, but I’m not quite sure what it is. It’s gone just as fast as he drops his gaze and gets into the truck.
I follow his lead, hopping into the other side.
He doesn’t say anything again until we’re pulling onto the road.
“My dad died of lung cancer five years ago. He owned a body shop and spent a lot of time in a paint booth. Due to the nature of my job, I get my lungs checked once a year to be safe. I hadn’t had my