I’ve been respectful of her space since she moved in a few days ago. I even agreed to let her move into the largest bedroom on the first floor even though I wanted her on the second floor next to me. But every night, I have to resist the urge to barge into her space and demand that she at least f*****g talk to me.
Hell, I’d settle for having her just look at me at this point.
I point my chin toward the magazine in her hand. “Are you planning the nursery already?”
“It’ll take time to source things,” she explains. “I like to be prepared.”
“I’ll clear out the furniture in one of the bedrooms upstairs so you can start working on the nursery.”
She frowns. “That won’t be necessary. I’d rather have the nursery on the first floor… next to my room.”
“That was one of my conditions on moving ba
