“That’s hardly a ringing endorsement, Evan,” he returned.

Seriously?

“Well, you know,” I continued, feeling awkward, because I wanted what he wanted, like a lot, for many reasons. And the scary part of that was that going back to school was not the top slot like it always used to be when I considered my life priorities (Mag was). But even so, this was too fast even if it was great, and I didn’t want anything to mess it up. “I do have issue with you putting fresh, hot blueberry pancakes à la Danny ‘Mag’ Magnusson in front of me then instigating a deep conversation before I even got them buttered.”

“Evie,” he said low. “Not sure you caught this, honey, but I’m bein’ very serious here. And bein’ serious, I’ll remind you that you woke me up, so I assume you were conscious and reasoning when I was moving inside you earlier.”

One could debate the “reasoning” part, considering, even when he was being gentle and taking it slow, having sex with him was mind scrambling.

But I was definitely conscious.

Though I could make an argument all of that was a dream.

Which, of course, was actually a point for his side of our current discussion.

“Danny,” I whispered.

“A woman you admire couldn’t get through the roadblocks of her time. But you can. You’ve been held back long enough. Don’t slip into a position where you hold yourself back out of habit.”

I studied his face, took a beat and then said calmly, “I love that you want to take care of me, but—”

That was as far as I got before he interrupted me.

“Yeah, I do. But that isn’t what this is about. For me, you’re super fuckin’ cute, you’re a fantastic cook, you’re a great lay, you listen, you’re thoughtful, you’re nice to people, you’re interesting, you’re funny and you’re a massive dork. In other words, I like having you around. I like it in a way, I’ve made it no mystery, I think we got a future. For you, I hope you get some of that back. Though I’m no dork.”

He had that right.

“So it’s soon,” he went on. “You’re right. But I know a lot of folks who jumped in fast because they knew there was something there and every single one of them are married and got kids.”

He was talking about the Rock Chicks.

Not to mention Lottie and Mo who got super, double extra serious after just a few days.

Though I suspected Mag had an ulterior motive.

“And you don’t want me dancing anymore,” I stated carefully.

“And you don’t like to dance,” he retorted.

I could not argue that.

But I could still argue.

“Danny, I mean no offense, really, you make me happy, the happiest I’ve ever been. I love what we’re building. But for a step like that, this is way too soon.”

He stared into my eyes.

Then he looked down at his plate, muttering, “Right.”

“I don’t want to hurt your feelings,” I told him earnestly.

He again looked at me and I held my breath when he did.

“Just to confirm, you were conscious and reasoning when I was moving inside you earlier, yeah?” he asked.

God, it so totally felt as profound to him as it had to me.

And I loved that.

“Yes,” I answered.

“You ever have that before?” he pressed.

No.

Profound and consuming sex that came naturally and felt beautiful?

Not even close.

I shook my head.

“Babe,” he leaned into a hand on the counter toward me, “it’s you.”

“What’s me?” I whispered.

“For me.”

I felt my lips part.

Oh…my…God.

“And this isn’t about your burgers, or your steaks. I knew from then,” he kept at me, “but every day since then, you made me know it even better.”

Suddenly, my breath wasn’t coming easily.

Danny wasn’t quite finished.

“So, the way I see it, you can drop a bundle on furniture and other shit to set up your pad only for us to keep goin’ how we’re goin’ and we’re gonna end up trying to decide whose furniture to keep and what’s gotta go, or you can invest in you.” He reached for the butter and slid it his way. “Your call.”

I watched him slice off a pat and begin to butter his pancakes agitatedly before I asked, “Were you thinking about all of this when you were looking at Zillow listings?”

His eyes came right to mine, and his tone was as flat as his pancakes. “No, I was thinking about all of this, primarily how much I like being with you, while I was moving inside you this morning.”

“Okeydoke,” I whispered.

He went back to buttering.

“Any word on the bad guy?” I asked.

“Cisco is in the wind,” he grunted, finishing with the butter and sliding it back to me. “Got no clue, but I suppose that happens when you’re an asshole and a dumbfuck, you kill a cop with a gun that’s registered to you and aren’t smart enough to wipe the weapon and dispose of it. But what do I know? I just know, now that half of Denver is asking around about that gun, he’s vapor.”

I didn’t butter my pancakes because I was watching Mag slather his with syrup and do it irritably.

And generously.

He had a heavy hand with syrup, but not that heavy.

I’d hurt his feelings.

It was me…

For him.

And alternately, it was him…

For me.

And he was right now a guy who’d made love to his girlfriend, then made her pancakes, then opened a locked gate beyond which was the path to her dreams and asked her to move in with him, even if she was already doing that and it wasn’t just copacetic.

It was awesome.

It was awesome to go grocery shopping with him and tease him that he bought more Cinnamon Toast Crunch and marshmallows and hinted broadly, “Just to have on hand, you know, in case you wanna spoil your boyfriend.”

It was awesome to come home at night after dancing at Smithie’s and have him waiting up for me on the couch. It was awesome to then get a cuddle and rundown of where we were both at with our days and in our heads. And it was awesome to go to bed beside him.

It was also awesome he drove all the way to Culver’s from work because I had an assignment close to there around lunchtime, and he wanted me to eat the custard when it wasn’t melted.

More awesome was when he texted to tell me Iron Giant was playing at the Mayan in a retrospective, that was his favorite animated movie, and he wanted to make plans to go even if I’d seen it, but definitely if I hadn’t.

But I’d seen it, and it was my favorite animated movie too.

And that in itself was awesome, that we both loved the Iron Giant, because he was bar none the sweetest weapon of mass destruction ever.

It was just awesome.

All of it.

All that came with being with Mag.

“So, I’m still in danger,” I noted.

“Days pass and nothin’ goes down, I got my doubts.” He forked into his pancakes, but before lifting them up to his mouth, he looked at me and finished, “I still want you covered for a while.”

I still want you covered for a while.