Drew is watching me with a look of scrutiny. “Is that too many?”
I face him, blinking. “Too many what?”
His lips draw together, a smile trapped between them. “Bedrooms.”
“I mean… no,” I titter, narrowing my eyes at him. “Why would that be too many? Didn’t your grandparents have like three kids?”
He watches me for a moment, and I feel him taking in my whole face. His, as usual, is impossible to read. “Four bedrooms wasn’t too much for them,” he says, finally, his voice going softer than I think I’ve ever heard it. “But I’m talking about us.”
My heartbeat takes off. I have no idea what he means, but my body seems to recognize its importance. “Us?” I sound like an idiot, but it’s the only word I can manage.
Drew frees his smile. “Yeah, Guppy. Us,” he says, with a tease in his rich voice. “Grandma left me this house. Will you live in it with me?”
I blink once. Twice. Force a swallow.
Live here? With Drew? In the Quincy Family home? But, now, it would be…our home.
“Yes,” I vow, finding my voice at last. “I’d love to.”
Drew’s shoulders relax, and his smile grows. “Good,” he says on an exhale. And it’s only then I realize he was nervous to ask me.
I gape at him. “Were you afraid I’d say no?”
His barely there shrug is all I need. I set down the plate in my hands on the step below me before taking his and doing the same. And then I launch myself into his arms, planting a kiss on his mouth that can leave no room for doubt.
I kiss him, and he kisses back. And in his kiss I taste both relief and joy. And hunger. His hands settle along my ribs, trace down the curve of my waist, meeting my flared hips before making their way up again. I go loose under his touch, but before I let myself forget where we are and what’s happening in the house just down the stairs, I pull back, but gently, taking my time.
I keep my arms in the cradle of his when I look up into his eyes. “So this,” I say, casting my gaze along the walls and ceiling surrounding us, “is yours now?”
He’s looking at me with a hazy desire in his eyes, but my question sharpens his focus. “Yeah,” he says. “According to Aunt Josie, it’ll be official on Tuesday when we meet with Grandma’s attorney, but everyone already knows.”
“Then, Drew,” I say, a hint of worry edging in my voice. “Don’t you think you should be down there? With your family? Instead of hiding up here with me.”
He arches a brow and gives me a stern look. “We’re not hiding. We’re taking a much needed moment.” He reaches down and grabs my plate. “And we’ll join everybody in a minute. Right now, we both need to eat something.”
I take my plate from him. About this, there’s no sense in arguing. I recognize that signature stubbornness of his, and I’ll readily admit that I sort of love it. Plus, I’ve eaten almost nothing in the last three days, but now that I’m here, my appetite seems to have made a full recovery. So I take a bite of the chicken zucchini casserole.
“Mmm…Annie was right.”
Drew seems surprised at my acquiescence, so when he picks up his own plate, he does it without his eyes leaving me. Then he takes his own bite and makes a startled grunt of satisfaction.
“Maybe Mrs. Troxclair will share her recipe,” he mutters, making me grin.
“With me or you?”
He shrugs, but his own grin turns teasing. “I don’t know, but your zucchini bread is pretty good. Maybe you could take a crack at it.”
Laugher bubbles up from my middle. “Yeah, but that was with your grandma’s zucchini. You gonna keep her garden growing?”
Drew’s gray eyes turn soft and thoughtful. “Worth a try,” he says, his voice going hoarse.
I lay my hand on his knee. “I think she’d like that,” I whisper.
He nods, holding my gaze, not looking away.
I smile, even though my bottom lip might quiver just a little. “You grow the zucchini. I’ll make the casserole.”
Drew clears his throat and forks another bite into his mouth. “Deal.”