“You two okay?” Teresa asked carefully.
“We will be,” I said, squeezing Connor’s hand. “We’re going to try.”
"Good." Teresa grinned. "Because you're a lucky bitch. You got the one man who cleans the bathroom without being asked."
Eddie cleared his throat. "I can hire cleaners, babe."
"Not the same," she grinned.
Connor pulled plates from the cabinet. "Pie?"
"Obviously," Teresa said.
"For victory pie, we need celebratory drinks too, right?" I pulled out vodka and Kahlúa … then found Connor's peppermint mocha creamer.
Connor's mouth quirked at my collection of spirits. "The bar abides."
Teresa and Eddie settled at the counter while Connor cut into his mom's perfect lattice pie and I handed out drinks.
"To new beginnings and happy endings," Connor said, raising his glass as he took my hand.
The apartment was a mess from the ruined dinner, boxes still half-packed for his move—ourmove. But none of that mattered tonight. We'd figure it out. Together.
Epilogue
Six Months Later
Theproblemwithmovingwas that no matter how well you planned it, chaos was inevitable.
I stood in the middle of the new living room—ourliving room—surrounded by labeled boxes, and watched two movers maneuver Mom's couch through the doorway. The same couch I'd hauled from San Francisco to Saratoga, the one Hannah had crashed on when she'd had nowhere else to go.
I opened my mouth to give direction, then caught myself. Hannah's voice echoed in my head:Not everything needs managing, Connor.
"You're doing that thing where you hover without actually hovering," Hannah said from behind me, and I turned to find her leaning against the door frame. "It's very restrained of you."
"I'm trying."
"I know." She walked over and kissed my cheek. "The couch is going to be fine. Let the professionals handle it."
The movers set it down with a decisive thump, and I immediately checked for scratches, relieved to find none. Thecouch had survived another move. We handed over a generous tip as they left.
"See?" Hannah plunked down, rubbing the armrest affectionately. "Still in one piece. Just like us."
I sat beside her, the familiar cushions sinking under my weight.
"I crashed here when I had nowhere to go," she said quietly.
"You've always had a place with me."
She leaned her head on my shoulder. We looked at the boxes labeledKITCHEN,BEDROOM,OFFICE. Our whole life, packed in stages—first my stuff from Saratoga mixed with hers, then furniture from her parents' house, most of it shoved into a storage unit for months while we searched.
After Hannah's interview, Victoria offered her the job on the spot. That night I took her to her favorite dim sum place in Chinatown, and over soup dumplings and fried rice, we built our wish list for an apartment. It felt impossible then—everything we wanted in a city where compromise was the only currency that mattered.
But we kept looking. Months of dragging our poor realtor through Jersey, Queens, every Brooklyn neighborhood. The corporate studio I'd moved into was barely big enough for one person, let alone two. We were going to kill each other if we didn't find something soon.
Then Victoria mentioned this Cobble Hill place, and gave us both the afternoon off to see it.
We'd stood in the empty kitchen, looking at each other.
