I went through a bunch more boxes and found skirts and dresses and jeans and blouses and so many things that I was excited to wear again. In the fourth box I opened I found my kitchen mug, the one Shay had got me at graduation that said WORLD’S BEST TEACHER. I brought it into the kitchen and was surprised to find Tyler at the stove, humming to himself as he cooked.

Little shivers of awareness shot through me at the sight of him. His shoulders were so broad and he was so deliciously tall and his arms were just perfectly formed and . . . I forced myself to clear my throat and said, “Hi.”

I wanted to roll my eyes at myself because that was so stupid. We were roommates. I couldn’t say hi to him every time I saw him.

Fortunately, he didn’t call me out on my dumbness. “Hey, I’m making some fettuccine Alfredo. Would you like some?”

He was going to feed me? Did he not understand the possible fallout from that? He was obviously going to make me fall in love with him. Be an adult who respects rules, I told myself as I put my mug down on the counter. I sat on the barstool in front of the island. “I would love some.”

Nodding at my mug, he said, “Do you need help unpacking?”

Oh. He assumed that I was a normal person and had more things to put in the kitchen besides one single mug. “No, I’m good. It kind of feels like Christmas, only for stuff you already own. I’d forgotten half of the things in there. Like the Birkin bag my grandmother gave me for graduation. It’s one of my favorite things in the whole world.” My mother had been livid when I opened it. It was one of the bags from the first Birkin line and my mom had been certain she would add this particular heirloom to her stash.

She had been pretty shocked, too, when I’d refused to hand it over.

“It’s a good thing you have such a great attitude about it. Most people would just see it as a chore. Oh, speaking of . . .” He turned around to grab a piece of paper off the fridge. “So, full disclosure, I copied this off one of those house-organizational websites. I thought it might be helpful. But if you don’t want to do things this way, it’s totally up to you.”

He handed me the paper and it was a list of chores for the apartment. Dusting, vacuuming, washing the windows. Cleaning toilets. Ick. My stomach sank at the prospect. I hadn’t even thought about that. I was going to need one of those full-on hazmat suits to do it.

“Don’t worry about my room or my bathroom. Like I said, I’ll clean up after myself. This is just some deeper cleaning in the general areas. Are you good with that?”

“Yes.” I was going to have to be, wasn’t I?

“While I’m thinking about it, I have my calendar hanging up on the fridge so that you know when I’ll be here and when I won’t. I’m flying out for New York first thing in the morning and I’ll be gone for a few days.”

“That’s thoughtful, thank you.”

Tyler nodded and grabbed two plates. He started dishing them up but I stopped him by saying, “Not very much for me. I have to go over to my parents’ house later for dinner.”

“Sure thing. You don’t seem very happy about it. Having dinner with your parents. You kind of make it sound like you’re going to a funeral.”

“The night’s still young, so it’s too early to rule that out.” Realizing Tyler might not get my sense of humor, I added, “Sorry, my family doesn’t put me in the best mood.”

“Oh, I get that all too well.” He flashed me a bone-melting grin as he brought the plates over to the small dining room table between his kitchen and living room. “Would you grab some forks? They’re in the drawer closest to the dishwasher.”

I wasn’t a hundred percent sure which appliance was the dishwasher, but thankfully I guessed correctly and found the silverware. I came over to the table and handed him a fork. I tried not to gasp when our fingers brushed together, the sensation of his skin on mine again rendering me mindless.

He, apparently, did not have the same kind of reaction. “Thanks. Dig in!”

Despite his disinterest, I found myself wanting to “accidentally” touch him again, so I focused on the dinner instead. I twirled the pasta around my fork, brought it up to my mouth, and tried not to groan in pleasure as I began to eat it. This was so much better than Lucky Charms. “This is amazing.”

“I knew I liked you,” he said with a wink that made my stomach flop over.

“As long as you keep feeding me this way, I’ll give you whatever compliments you want.”

He laughed, and his laughter still had that same magical quality to it that made my insides feel fizzy and light. There was something about him that I couldn’t put my finger on. That I wasn’t allowed to put my finger on.

It wasn’t just that he was handsome and sexy, which he obviously was, but there was something magnetic about him. He was effortlessly charming. People were drawn to him and wanted to be close to him. Or at least that was true for my anecdotal evidence of having seen him in action with three different women. I had the feeling it would be true of almost every woman in his presence.

Hence the restraining order.

He spoke, interrupting my thoughts: “I forgot to say anything earlier, but I want you to be comfortable here. Please feel free to decorate however you want or put up pictures of your family or whatever.”

“Oh no, they don’t show up on film.” Not to mention the last thing I needed was my mother’s disapproving stare gazing out at me on a daily basis.

That made him chuckle and he said, “I am serious, though. The offer stands. This is your home now, too.”

“Thanks.” I couldn’t see myself actually doing it, though. He’d obviously paid a decorator a lot of money to get a specific look and I wasn’t going to mess with that. It was actually a little sad that he’d settled into this decor. As I looked around, I felt like the apartment lacked Tyler’s personality. It was technically beautiful, but it didn’t feel like a home. This was how he wanted to live his life and how he wanted to organize his space. Surrounded by showpieces meant to impress.

It was how my childhood home had been decorated, as well.

So regardless of how nice he was, and how gorgeous, I needed to remember that Tyler was like the people from my old life. I’d recently decided, mostly thanks to Brad and my parents, that I wasn’t interested in dating a man with money. I’d seen that life. I’d grown up in it. It wasn’t what I wanted. I didn’t want appearances to matter more than anything else. Where it was fine if your marriage was falling apart as long as you put on a brave face and pretended like everything was normal. Where you ignored your children and let them be raised by nannies because you had to go to the spa and take multiple vacations a year because of how very stressful your life was. A life where you pitted your children against one another and made them compete for your time and affection.

To be fair, there were probably wealthy families that were normal and functioned well. I just hadn’t met any of them yet.

Which meant that despite my daydreaming, I would never share a life or a home with Tyler. I wasn’t going to stay here long term. I was going to save up enough to get a decent apartment and then I would move on.

“So how long have you and Shay been friends?” he asked.