Epilogue
Home Is Where He Sets Me Down
Olivia
The front door sticks a little.
Not because it’s old or broken.Because it’s brand-new construction and still settling, the way bones settle after a growth spurt.The realtor apologized for it.
I kind of love it.Imperfect.Real.Ours.
Darren jiggles the key, gets it, and then grins back at me like a man who’s just been handed the universe and told to make himself comfortable.
“Are you ready?”he asks.
I laugh, breathless.“I’ve been ready since you showed me the kitchen pantry.”
“Of course it was the pantry,” he murmurs.“Nerd.”
“Fireboy.”
His eyes darken with that same old heat that has not dimmed in two years, not even a little.“Careful.”
“Threaten me with a good time, why don’t you.”
He huffs out a helpless laugh and then does exactly what he’s been itching to do since the moving van pulled away.He picks me up.Like it’s nothing.
“Tradition,” he says simply, and then, because he’s Darren, adds, “also I’ve wanted to do this since the moment you yelled at that councilman about cutting the library budget.Sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“Still not apologizing.”
“Never do.”
He shifts me in his arms and carries me over the threshold of our house.Ourhouse.Not a temporary room.Not a place borrowed from fear or circumstance.Not ashes.Home.
I expect to cry.
Instead, I laugh, loud and bright, bubbling up from somewhere new and steady inside me.He spins me once in the entryway and the world blurs into paint samples we fought over, the banister I will trip on at least twice, the wall where our life is going to happen.
“Welcome home, Olivia,” he whispers, forehead brushing mine.
“Welcome home, Darren.”
The back door bangs open before we can get any mushier.
Aunt Dee barrels in like she owns the place, which, spiritually, she does, carrying a casserole and enough emotional intensity to power a small town.Both kids follow her, racing through the hallway like joyful missiles.
“Put her down before you drop her, boy!”she scolds automatically.
“I would never,” he says, scandalized, still holding me.“This is precious cargo.”
