He had been talking about us moving in together since Christmas, and I’d kept giving him excuses—everything from it being too soon to moving expenses.

“I don’t have a car. How am I going to get to work if I move into your condo?”

He shrugged. “We’ll figure it out. I can drop you off. It’s a shorter drive than coming here every weekend.”

“We don’t have to decide now.”

Taylor took a long drink, sucking the beer bottle dry, and then he took it with him to the kitchen. He tossed it into the trash can before opening the fridge to grab another. He twisted off the cap and threw it into the garbage, too, before returning to me in a huff.

“Taylor …” I began.

“You’re not the one who has to make this drive, Falyn.”

“You’re right,” I said. “That is a fair point.”

“We definitely need to go,” Gunnar said.

“What’s your rush?” Kirby asked.

Gunnar’s brows pulled together. “When you start agreeing with me the way Falyn just did, shit goes downhill real fast.”

She laughed and nudged him, and Taylor and I couldn’t help but smile.

He hugged me to him and kissed my hair. “I’ll make the drive as long as I have to. It’s the time in between I don’t like,” Taylor said.

“I know. I don’t like it either. The silver lining is that, after we get back from Saint Thomas, you’ll be working back here in five weeks.”

“Maybe. That’s never a guarantee. There’s no telling where I’ll be.”

I cocked my head, getting impatient with his negativity. “You said your crew has been here the last three summers.”

“Okay, but what about the year I’m not? That’s six months I’ll be even farther away from you.”

“If I live in Estes and you’re called somewhere else, you’ll be away from me anyway!” I said.

“Not if we’re in Estes! I’ll take the local position!”

Gunnar stood up.

“Honey,” Kirby said, her voice bordering on a whine.

“I’m going to drink one of those beers if we don’t leave right now,” he said, towering over her.

He reached out, and she took his hand.

“Let’s go do something,” he said.

“We could go to the hookah bar,” she said, standing next to her boyfriend.

Taylor and I glared at each other.

“It is so incredibly stupid for us to be fighting about seeing each other while we’re seeing each other,” I said.

“See? That’s where we’re different. I don’t think it’s stupid to fight for this at all.”

I sighed. He didn’t see it as fighting over who was moving where and under what circumstances. He felt like he was fighting for us to be together. How could I argue with that?