It Starts with Us by Colleen Hoover

The guy says, “You bet.”
Atlas looks back at me and says, “Meet you at my house.”
I stopped by my apartment before going to his restaurant to pack a bag just in
case this was a possibility, so I get to his place before he does. While I wait
for Atlas, I use the time in my car to check in with Allysa.
Did she fall asleep okay?
Just fine. How’s your night going?
Just fine. ;)
Have fun. I expect a full report.
Atlas’s headlights shine through my car as he pulls into his driveway. I’m
still gathering my things when he opens my car door. As soon as I climb out
of the car, Atlas dips an impatient hand into my hair and kisses me. It’s the
kind of kiss that screams I’ve missed kissing you.
When he pulls back, he studies my face with a gentle smile. “I liked you
watching me in the kitchen tonight.”
A shiver passes over me. “I like watching you.” I can’t say it without
grinning. I grab my bag from the passenger seat, and Atlas takes it from me
and hoists it over his shoulder. I follow him through the garage. He still has
moving boxes piled up along one wall. There’s a weight bench in pieces on
the floor next to the unpacked boxes. There are two full baskets of laundry
sitting in front of a washer and dryer.
Seeing a little bit of disarray in his garage is comforting. I was beginning
to think he was too good to be true, but Atlas Corrigan is behind on life and
behind on laundry like the rest of us.
He unlocks his house and holds the door open for me. It’s smaller than his
last one, but it’s more him. And it’s not a cut-and-paste brick building in a
subdivision of similar-looking homes. The houses in this neighborhood have
character. Each one is vastly different, from the pink two-story house on the
corner to the modern boxy glass one at the other end of the street.
Atlas’s house is a bungalow-style home nestled in between two larger
homes. When I was here last time, I noted that he somehow got the biggest
backyard of the three. Plenty of room for a garden someday…
Atlas enters his security code into his keypad. “It’s nine five nine five,” he
says. “If you ever need in.”