I rolled my eyes. “You know what I mean.”
“Are we going to go through this every time?”
“Yup.”
“I was thinking we could go Dutch on an air mattress,” he said.
“An air mattress?” I repeated.
“And patio furniture for the living room.”
I glared at him. “You’re teasing me.”
“I bought you a car. What’s a little furniture?”
I huffed and tried to walk away, but his grip on me tightened, and then he settled his hand on my belly. “You have the baby. I’ll take care of the furniture. Okay?”
Sighing, I stared up into his eyes. “Okay.”
* * *
“You need clothes,” I said to Slash as I handed him the carton of chicken chow mein.
“I have clothes.” He dove into the carton with his chopsticks and held up a bite to me.
“Why do you keep feeding me?” I demanded.
He raised his brows.
With a sigh, I opened my mouth. After I chewed and swallowed, I said, “You’ve worn the same pair of jeans every time I’ve seen you, and as far as I know you only have two shirts and two pairs of boxers.”
“Two pairs of socks, too.”
“There was no point in offering you a drawer,” I joked. “You don’t even have enough clothes to fill it.”
“Don’t need much.”
“Egg roll?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
I reached for the bag of egg rolls and settled back onto the couch. I handed him one, and he immediately took a bite.
I nibbled on my own and studied him.
“You’re staring at me,” he quipped, not taking his eyes off his food.
“I’m not used to having someone else in my space,” I admitted. “Especially not one who wears size eleven boots.”
“You didn’t have roommates when you lived in New York?” he asked.
“Nope. I got lucky and scored a rent-controlled prewar studio apartment on the Upper East Side. Not like I was there much, but when I was, it was just me.”
“So, you’ve never lived with anyone besides your dad?”
“Nope.”
A smile flitted across his face.