“Yeah,” I countered, switching off the radio. “The exit was back there.”
“The exit I’m looking for is about 3 miles ahead, give or take.” He bit his bottom lip to keep from smiling, but his dimple still shone in his cheek.
“You’re seriously going to hold me to this?”
“A deal’s a deal, sweetheart,” he grinned. “I got you locked in and there’s no way you’re getting out of it.”
“You said we were going hiking!”
“I never said that,” he laughed. “I said I needed exercise and loading your shit in the back of my truck is going to cause me to break a sweat.”
“You’re a tricky bastard,” I pretended to pout. I couldn’t let him see the bubble of excitement rising in my core. Living with him would make things so much easier and it was what I really wanted. My opposition to it had been to protect him and my heart. He clearly was pushing for this.
We drove the rest of the way in a comfortable silence. Max’s happiness at his victory over me creating an undercurrent of warmth in the truck. The sun, which hadn’t been out in a couple of days, was shining brightly.
Max pulled the truck into my driveway and we went to the door, unlocked it, and walked inside. He disabled the alarm while I looked around, the enormity of the situation slamming into me.
What am I going to do with all this stuff? We can’t fit it all in his truck. What am I going to do with this house? What about the mortgage? Do I call Dad and list it?
Oh, hell, I can’t do that! I need to . . .
“Stop,” he whispered in my ear.
“Stop what?”
“Don’t overthink this. I know you’re rolling a thousand things through your pretty little mind right now. We’ll figure it out. Just take it a day at a time, okay?”
I relaxed, relieved. “Okay. So we are clear that this isn’t permanent?”
He laughed loudly, turning to walk up the stairs. “Don’t kid yourself, sweetheart. This is as permanent as it gets.” He took the stairs two at a time and disappeared into my bedroom. I followed, each step adding to the dread I felt.
“I’m overwhelmed,” I muttered, looking at all of the things I owned. “What do I take? How did I accumulate all this stuff?”
“Just take enough stuff to get ya through the week. We’ll get a U-Haul or something for the rest of the stuff.”
He was making this too easy. “What if I want to take my bed? What do we do with yours?” I asked, challenging him.
“I’m not attached to my bed. For all I care, you can sell everything I own and move your shit in, as long as it means you are moving in with it.”
I turned to face the wall so he wouldn’t see the huge grin on my face. I cleared my throat. “I have some big boxes left in the garage that Jada didn’t use. I’ll go get them. Can you gather my shoes out of the closet?” I asked.
“You’re worried about your shoes?”
“I can stay here,” I warned him.
He saluted me. “Shoes. Check.”
I laughed and left him to his task while I grabbed the boxes from the garage. I swiped a few pictures I wanted out of the living room and made my way back to the bedroom.
He was standing outside my closet, his hands on his hips. “Do you even realize how many shoes you have?”
I nodded. “I do. I know each and every pair, so don’t think about leaving any behind. I’ll know.”
“For shit’s sake,” he muttered.
“Excuse me? Did I hear you complain?”
He took a box and started filling it with shoes, making me laugh. I grabbed another and tossed in some scrubs for work, workout clothes, and lingerie. I opened another and laid a blanket inside. I sat my jewelry boxes and trinkets off my dresser carefully on the material. A pair of sunglasses fell out of a dish and hit the floor, cracking the lens. I tossed it in the trash, the sound getting Max’s attention.
“What was that?” he asked, nodding at the trash.
“A pair of sunglasses.”
“Do you have another pair?”
“Yeah, those weren’t even mine,” I said, emptying my bedside table into the box.
“Who do they belong to?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. They were just here a while back.”
He looked puzzled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I don’t know where they came from. They were on the kitchen counter a few months ago. Jada lived here then and she and I went for a walk. We came home and they were laying on the counter. I saved them in case someone asked if they left them here, but no one did. They look expensive, too, so I’m surprised no one was missing them. It was kind of a joke between us for a while.”
“That’s weird,” he said, standing up. “I think that’s all the shoes. What else do you wanna take?”
“Can we take my treadmill? Do you think it’ll fit in your truck?” It was the one thing I missed not having at Max’s. I ran outside when I was there and it was just too hot most days.
“Yeah, it’ll fit. Want me to take these boxes down now?”