“I want to design it myself, though. Well, not completely on my own.” He wrapped his arm around my shoulder. “I know this talented woman - she designed an awesome kitchen and the most amazing rooftop patio I’ve ever seen. I think I’ll ask her how big of a closet she wants. Put in a whole art studio room just for making stained glass?”

I smiled at him but inside I was freaking out. We’d only been together for a month and already I was going to be designing a house with him?

Was he serious? He looked serious. He surely sounded serious.

“So, what are you ladies going to do today?” Ryan asked, hugging me from behind at the edge of the water. His mother walked away to speak to his father; they headed towards the dock. I really think she just wanted to give us a moment of privacy.

“I think we’re going to the outlet mall today. I want to stop at the one antique store. I haven’t been there in years. Maybe we’ll do that tomorrow though.”

He partially released me to reach into his front pocket. Then I felt him stuff something into the right front pocket of my jeans.

“That’s a thousand,” he whispered in my ear. “I want you to spend it on anything your heart desires.”

I slouched in his arms; my body language showing my displeasure of his gesture. “Ryan.”

“Taryn, please. Go have fun with my mom. Enjoy yourself.”

“Did your father shove a thousand dollars in your mom’s pocket, too?” I softly asked.

“I honestly don’t know,” he admitted. “My parents have been married for thirty-four years and they share everything, money included.” He sighed in my ear. “And my father didn’t recently cash another five million dollar paycheck with another eight million coming.”

I pinched my eyes closed. “I don’t want your money, Ryan.” I felt horrible for allowing it.

“I know,” he murmured on my neck, stopping my hand from leaving my pocket. “Consider this practice for the next thirty-four years.”

“Well if or when the thirty-four years officially starts, we can have this conversation again,” I said gently. I pulled the money out of my pocket and tried to hand it back to him but he wouldn’t take it.

“So are you telling me we have to be married first before I can even attempt to spoil you and share what I have?” he groaned.

“No. It’s just… that’s a lot of money, Ryan!”

He snickered in my ear. “No, that’s not a lot of money. That’s not even enough to buy a pair of shoes in Beverly Hills.”

I rolled my eyes, even though he didn’t see my reaction.

“If you love me like you say you do, then what’s the problem? I want to make you happy.”

I knew exactly where he was going with this. His chest was pressed to my back, his arms held me in position, and next he was going to try and trip me up in words.

“I do love you. I love that you want to take care of me. But this…” I held the money up, “does not equal happiness or love.” I knew he wanted to treat me well but part of me felt like he was trying to buy my affection.

He wrapped his left arm across my chest. “Taryn, I know you’re a self-sufficient, independent woman and I love that about you. And loving you means that I want to take care of you - physically, emotionally, and financially. If I wanted to piss you off today I would have shoved a hundred grand in your pocket,” he growled in my ear.

I slumped in his arm.

“Yours, mine, ours…” He shoved the bills deeper into my pocket with his long fingers. “Didn’t you say once it was just details? That this is what matters?” He patted his right hand over my heart.

I leaned my head back on his shoulder and nodded reluctantly in defeat. I had to agree with him; after all, he did volley my own words back at me.

“Your parents took care of each other. My parents take care of each other. You’ve been taking care of me – just let me try to take care of you.”

He trailed the tip of his nose up and down my neck, knowing how much it makes my will crumble. “Please?”

His lips brushed my skin. “Go have fun with my mom. Buy yourself some new clothes or shoes or some fruity-soapy stuff. Whatever makes you happy,” he uttered persuasively in my ear. He released me, confidently knowing that he had just reduced me to a pile of rubble.

I drove to the outlet mall first; there were enough stores there to keep us busy for an entire day. The money Ryan shoved in my pocket felt like it weighed eighty pounds; maybe it was my guilt for accepting it that weighed that much.

I instantly felt better about spending his money when the first thing I bought was three new pairs of jeans for him. After seeing all the items that constituted his wardrobe, he needed some new pants. His mother shook her head at me when I pulled some of the cash out of my pocket.

She waited until we were out of the store to reprimand me.

“I know Ryan wanted you to spend that money on yourself, not on him.” Her expression was tender and disapproving all at the same time.

“He desperately needs new jeans. Believe it or not, he only has a few pair. A lot of his clothing was stolen from the hotel.” I quickly justified my actions.

“You truly are as selfless as he said you are.” She pulled me by the elbow into a trendy clothing store.

I found a few articles of clothing that I liked. His mother was pleased that I had finally selected things for myself.

I didn’t think I had enough cash left in my pocket, so I grabbed my bankcard out of my wallet. The young girl behind the counter was looking at me strangely as she examined my card for a signature.

“Taryn!” His mother’s reproachful tone caught me by surprise.

“Holy cow!” the young girl behind the counter blurted. “You’re Taryn! Taryn Mitchell!”

“Do I know you?”

“You’re dating Ryan Christensen, right?”

I looked at his mother. I didn’t know where else to look.

“It is you! Oh my God! Is he here too?” Her eyes wielded around the store.

“No dear, he’s not.” His mother answered her question. “May I have that card please? We’re going to pay with cash instead.”

The cashier was smiling frantically at me. “You are so freaking lucky! He is so hot! I saw Seaside like thirty times already. Oh my God! Wait until I tell my friends that I met you!” She jumped around like someone was electrocuting her.

“Wait, are you Ryan Christensen’s mom? Oh my God, Oh my God! Do you both mind if I take your picture? Please?” She was already pulling her cell phone out of her pocket.