Nalani comes around the car, looping an arm through mine like she’s claiming me back. “You’re not lifting a thing, we’re directing.”
“I’m fine with doing my part,” I protest, but Savannah stirs, making a soft sound of complaint, and I stop moving. “Okay, maybe after I feed this one.”
“Smart woman,” Paul says, patting a mover on the shoulder. “You heard her. Handle those with care—one wrong move, and she’ll fire all of us.”
Deacon’s laugh is low and quick, “He’s not wrong.”
Nalani leans in, voice low enough that only I hear her. “You know they already think you hung the moon, right?”
I glance toward the truck—Paul steady and bossy, Deacon quietly efficient—and let out a slow breath. “Yeah. Feelings mutual.”
“Brooklyn called, we answered, and we’re staying.” To that, Savannah starts fussing.
“Sounds like someone else is calling too.” Deacon chuckles.
“Yeah,” I murmur, brushing Savannah’s cheek with my thumb. “Nap time ended about ten minutes ago, apparently.”
“I’ll bring the rest in,” Paul calls jokingly from behind us.
“Don’t overdo it,” I tell him over my shoulder, already halfway up the first step.
Deacon grumbles just loud enough for me to hear, “Says the woman hauling a kid and a diaper bag the size of a hockey net.”
I can’t help but smile as I head up to the room Nalani told me was mine.
The air upstairs is warmer and softer. Nalani’s place smells like cinnamon, pumpkin, and cedar, faint traces of laundry soap and perfume clinging to the air. Savannah’s little head rests just below my chin, her breath feathering against my skin as she tries to rut in.
Our room sits at the end of the hall, sunlight spilling in across the hardwood floor. It’s simple and spare but beautiful—white bedding, a small crib tucked into the corner. It’s perfect, yet I still can’t wait to have a place of my own. A place where I can host a girls’ night in. Where I can hang pictures and place all the things I have left in virtual shopping carts across the web.
Nalani offered to set up the crib —another purchase of Koas— in the room beside this one, but I'm still not ready to have her anywhere but beside me.
I set Savannah down on the bed long enough to peel off my sweater, her eyes following every move like a little hunter tryingto find her food. “You and me, kid,” I whisper, adjusting her blanket. “Whole new chapter.”
The door eases open as I sit in the rocker beside the window and drape the blanket over me. “Knock, knock,” Deacon’s voice comes, quiet and low.
He walks in with two boxes balanced in his arms, sleeves rolled up, the faintest sheen of sweat at his temples. He crosses the room in a few strides and sets them down carefully beside the closet.
“You didn’t have to carry those up,” I say, straightening.
He shrugs. “Didn’t feel right letting you do all the heavy lifting. You have much more important things to do. Besides, if I need help, Paul’s downstairs pretending, he’s still twenty-five.”
I laugh softly, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “He’s got heart.”
“Yeah, he does.” Deacon glances toward Savannah, whose small hand is reaching lazily into the air.
He leans against the dresser, arms folded loosely. “You okay?”
“As good as anyone can with a four-month-old and half their life in boxes and a threat looming.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” he says. His tone isn’t flirtatious, just honest, in that quiet way that it makes you believe it.
For a second, I just look at him, Savannah between us, the light hits him from the window. His eyes too intense for someone pretending to be casual.
“Thanks for helping,” I say finally, needing to break the stillness before it breaks me.
He gives a slight nod and straightens. “Anytime.”
When he turns to leave, his hand brushes the doorframe, and his voice softens. “You’re doing good, Claudia. Better than you think. You need anything, you let me know, even when I’m out of town.”
