Found in You(55)

He frowned. “It is. It’s unfortunate that a lengthy time span is regarded as such an important element to appropriate landmarks in relationships. It shouldn’t be a factor.”

“But shouldn’t it?” I shifted on my chair to face him head-on.

“Not for me. As I said before, when I have a plan, I commit. I plan to be with you as much as possible. And not only in the carnal sense. Moving in is a logical way to make that happen.”

I stood, gathering my dishes to take to the sink. I had to clutch them against my body so he didn’t hear them rattle in my unsteady hands. “And that’s another reason it might not be a good idea. It seems a little like a business plan. Like this is the next step on a list. Not very romantic or anything.”

His voice tightened. “I didn’t realize you were in need of romance. You know that’s not in my nature.”

“Hey.” I waited until he turned to face me, the breakfast bar between us. “That’s bullshit. You say you aren’t romantic, but you really are very much so.” The things he’d said the night before, for example. “I wasn’t complaining about your romantic overtures.”

“Then what are you complaining about?” He seemed genuinely confused.

“Nothing! I’m complaining about nothing.”

“You were complaining about the way I asked you to move in with me.”

“No, I’m not.” I shifted my eyes. “Okay, yes, I was. A little, but that’s not why I’m saying no.”

This took him aback. “You’re saying no?”

“No.” Wait. “I mean, yes.” Except, I didn’t really want to say no. I wanted to be with Hudson all the time, like how he’d said he wanted to be with me. Still, the length of time we’d been together… “I mean, I don’t know.”

Hudson came around the bar and put a hand on each of my upper arms. “Alayna, do you know how you feel about me?”

“Yes. I love you. You know that.”

“Then move in with me.”

I bit my lip and tugged on his lavender tie. “I have to think.”

He put a finger under my chin and lifted my face so I was forced to meet his eyes. “Why?”

“I just do.” I pulled away, unable to concentrate with his hands on me. Unable to stand my ground with the electricity surging between us as it always did when we touched.

Turning back to the sink for distraction, I dumped the grapefruit shells into the garbage and ran water over our dishes. “This is big, and yes, it would make things easier and I can’t deny that I want to—”

“Then do it.”

“—but I don’t know if it’s the right thing to do.” I turned off the water and flicked my wet hands over the sink. Without facing him, I admitted the heart of my hesitation. “I’m falling for you too hard, Hudson. Too fast and that scares me.”

“Falling? Or fallen?”

Both. Every time I was certain I’d met my max capacity of love for him, that I’d fallen as far as I possibly could, he’d go and do or say something spectacular and I’d find I loved him even more. “Either way, does it matter?”

“If you’ve already fallen, then why are you worried anymore about whether it’s too hard or too fast? It’s already done. That’s how I’m approaching it.”

There it was again—an allusion to the way he felt about me without an actual declaration. That was a problem right there, wasn’t it? How could I live with a man who couldn’t even say he loved me?