Page 78 of Bloom

He snorted. “No, no. Your couch is fine. Do you like this?”

I looked around. “I mean, I like it all. It all looks great, but...”

He smiled at me with all the patience of a saint. “Okay, so how about we just look at everything with no intention to buy. No pressure.”

“Am I that bad at this?”

He laughed. “Heavens no. How about this: I narrow it down to three setting options—coffee table, bookcase, cabinet or whatever—and you choose out of one of those?”

I sighed, relieved. “Perfect.”

He really was good at this.

He opted for three different rooms, each with furniture with lighter coloured frames, nothing big and bulky because I needed to work with a smaller space and minimal light.

I liked all three but preferred one over the others. “I like this one,” I said. “But maybe I should get the sofa as well. And maybe some frames for the walls. And the rug. God, this is why they do it like this, isn’t it? So you can see it all together and just buy it all.”

Linden laughed. “Pretty much, yeah.”

We took all the product numbers and item codes we needed, and I stood in the aisle. “Hm, maybe we could take a look in the kitchen area. It’s always fun.”

His grin widened, and taking my hand, he pulled me along. We looked at different settings and utensils. He laughed when I picked up the dinosaur ladle and the penguin egg holder. He might have thought I was joking, but nope. “I’m totally getting these.”

And then we found the pet section. “Oh my god,” he said, finding the biggest cat fort on the planet. “Meatball and Spaghetti are totally having this. They can have their own room with their beds and toys.”

“Our hypothetical cats get their own room?”

He nodded very seriously. “Oh, yes. With a big window for sunlight and heated beds in winter.”

“So you’ll be the dad that spoils them then.”

“Yep. And you’ll be the dad that cleans the litter boxes.”

“Thanks.”

He laughed. “You’re welcome.”

“And this hypothetical place we’re getting...” I said, trying to ignore the thump of my heart. “With a room for our hypothetical cats, is there a hypothetical budget for this? A hypothetical room for the furniture I’m about to buy, perhaps? Because I don’t particularly want to pay for all this twice.”

Linden leaned up on his toes and gave me a quick, smiley kiss. “I’ll make it work.”

I wanted to ask him if he had a hypothetical timeframe in mind but was too afraid. What if he said he was just joking? What if he said next month?

I didn’t know which answer scared me the most.

After the pet section, he found the plant section. He went straight past the artificial plants to a table of small real succulents. He picked up a euphorbia. “Oh, my god. Look at how cute he is. He’s coming home with me.” Then he picked up a second one. “You need one too.”

“Well,” I hedged. “That’s a euphorbia. They won’t be good for Meatball and Spaghetti.”

Linden gasped and put the plants back. His gaze shot to mine. “Then which ones can we have?”

For our cats that didn’t exist?

“Uh, this one.” I picked up a haworthia. “These are fine.”

“Then we’ll have two of these.” He selected two. “I’m so glad you know which ones to get. I could have made them sick.”

The whole hypothetical cats thing had started out funny, but it was starting to sound serious. “So about these cats,” I hedged, not entirely sure of what I even wanted to ask.