“Georgia isn’t home. It’s just where I grew up.” “LA is home?” he asks skeptically, arching an eyebrow at me. I scoff. “No. This is home.” I gesture vaguely, a funny jolt going through me when I realize what I’m saying. Teddy goes still, pausing in his attempt to get all the cards neatly stacked and looking at me. “This couch with a belly full of pancakes and way too much coffee,” I joke to ease the moment, and he sags a little, a crooked smile forming on his lips as he returns his attention to the cards.
