I choke on a sip of coffee. “Move in with you?”

Whoa! I thought I’d have to rope the boyfriend into this new commitment very slowly. And now he’s just asking me out of the blue over breakfast on a Thursday in December.

“I mean.” His lips twitch. “If you can stomach the idea of living in Brooklyn.”

“It’s not that. It’s just… are you sure?”

“I am, but you don’t seem too excited.”

“No, I am. But I don’t want you to rush into a commitment that might be too quick and backfire on us.”

“Think this is rushed? I’ll give you rushed.” Richard sits taller on his stool. “With my ex, I proposed after six months and pushed her to set the wedding date in another six months without having spent a single day under the same roof.”

Richard never talks about his past so I listen without interrupting.

“I sensed she wasn’t ready, but I pressed on. Thought that if I didn’t give her time to overanalyze, she’d be fine. Well, you know how that ended. That was rushed. This”—he swings his spoon between us, wielding it like a sword—“isn’t rushed. You’re not pressing me into anything. I’m asking you.”

“Okay.” I still feel like I’m walking on eggshells. “Take some extra time to mull it over. Then, if you’re still sure…”

“I don’t need extra time.”

I’m at a loss for words… I so didn’t expect this.

“You want to know why I’m happy it’s raining?” Richard continues.

Oh, so he was pleased by the awful weather. I nod.

“Rain means you spend the night. A sunny day means you go back to your place, and I’m alone. I hate sunny days.”

“You hate the sun because of me?”

“Despise it.”

A dumb smile appears on my lips. “Ah well, in that case…”

“Should I free a drawer?”

“Poor man. You’ve no idea what you just got yourself into. I’m going to need much more space than a drawer.” My brain whizzes with all the technical, organizational steps. “I’d need to give Nikki some notice. I can’t just stop paying my share of the rent and leave her out to hang. Plus, she hates the holidays, but…” I get up, another thought suddenly bolting through my head. “Wait here.”

I retrieve my bag from down the hall and fish inside for something I haven’t looked at in months. After some rummaging, I remember it’s in my wallet. A piece of paper so crumpled and frail it might disintegrate at any second.

“What’s that?” Richard asks.

Spreading the sheet on the bar, I ask, “You don’t recognize it?”

“Is it the list?”

“Mmm-hmm. And there’s just one item in there I haven’t ticked off yet.”

“Which is?”

“Don’t move in without a ring.”

“Oh, I never considered that angle. Does it bother you?”

“I always thought I wanted to be super traditional, but that was the old me.”

Richard is still staring at the list, frowning now. “And when did you go skinny dipping, exactly?”