There’s something in the way he saysus—like he’s already built a life in his head and is just waiting for me to step into it. Something twists deep in my chest—hope, fear, and want, all tangled together.
“I’ll talk to her, I promise,” my voice gentle. “And I’ll let you know what she says. I just… I need to make sure she’s good with it before I make anything official.”
I purposely don’t mention the other option—moving in with him—because that’s completely out of the question. I’m not ready for that, but he doesn’t need to know that right now.
“And for the record,” I add with a small smile, “the thought of you actually being here every day doesn’t sound bad at all.”
“That’s all I needed,” he breathes. “I just want to be where you are. Nights without you…” His fingers tighten around mine, subtle but intentional. “They don’t feel the same.”
He exhales softly, the corner of his mouth lifting before he leans in kissing me filled with a depth that makes my chest cave in a little. The lamp by my bed paints him in soft gold, making the entire room feel smaller and warmer, like it’s holding its breath.
He pulls back, resting his forehead against mine—lingering longer than he usually does, before finally standing. He pauses by the door, one hand on the frame, glancing back at me, his dark eyes full of something achingly tender.
“I’ll call you after my shift,” he says quietly, before slipping out of my room, closing the door behind him.
I sit there for a moment, the air brushing over my skin, the flowers still resting beside me on the comforter, the scent soft and sweet in the dense air.
I do love him—I feel it in the flutter low in my stomach, in the calm that settles once he’s gone. But saying yes would be more than moving boxes or clearing space in my closet. It’ll mean letting him all the way in.
Still… the thought of him here makes it almost impossible to say no.
Maybe this is what starting over is suppose to feel like.
Chapter Twenty Three
The Unexpected
W
aking up the next morning, his words replay in my head like a broken record.
Move in together.
I must’ve knocked out right after he left, but apparently my brain worked the night shift, because now I’m lying here staring at the ceiling, replaying the entire conversation on loop. I can still see the look he gave me when he said it—so serious, so sure.
I keep turning it over in my head. If he moves in here, it’ll be the safest route. My space, my rules. Plus, Arina’s family owns this house, so if things ever go sideways—not manifesting that—at least I know I won’t be the one cramming my life into cardboard boxes.
I’ll still have the home-court advantage. And honestly, that’s the only version that even makes sense for me. Moving inwith himisn’t an option—I didn’t say it last night, but that flag is bright red in my mind.
Dragging myself out of bed, I head for Arina’s door. She’s the only person who will lay it to me straight, even if it punches me in the gut.
After a few knocks, she cracks the door open—hair a tangled mess, shirt sliding off one shoulder, and bright royal-blue spandex that screamI literally just woke up.
“Bitch,” I sigh dramatically, leaning against the doorframe like the weight of my love life is physically holding me up, “Levy thinks we should move in together—well… him move in here.”
Her eyebrows shoot up like she just caught a plot twist. “Oh really? Mr. Romantic wants to move in with us?”
“As much as I love him,” I groan, sagging against her doorframe, “living with him athisplace sounds like a one-way trip to hell. I’d much rather him move in here with us. It’ll just feel… safer. But I don’t even know ifthat’sa good idea. And to be real, it’s only happening if you’re cool with it. If not, he’s staying exactly where he is. Because it’s not giving memove-into-a-man’s-houseenergy.”
Arina tilts her head, smirking like she’s flipping through all possible timelines. “Oh, absolutely. Let’s keep the power on our side for once. Besides, if he moves in here, I guess I can monitor y’all’s bullshit like the live-in best friend I never asked to be.”
I snort. “So you’re saying you’ll spy?”
“No. Just observe,” she says with mock seriousness. “And maybe judge quietly… or loudly, if necessary.”
I roll my eyes. “That’s fair enough.”
She yawns, stretching. “Look, I totally agree—I think it’s less complicated if he moves here too. Just make sureyou’resure. I don’t want to wake up to World War III in the hallway, hoe.”
