We stayed like that for a long time. Just breathing together. Just being.
My phone stayed silent on the nightstand. The brooch gleamed in the lamplight.
And for the first time in my life, I wasn’t afraid of what came next.
11
THE NEW NORMAL
WHERE I FINALLY BECOME THE MAIN CHARACTER.
Six weeks later, I stood in Marcus’s bathroom—ourbathroom now—and stared at the chaos I’d created.
My shampoo bottles had multiplied. Seven of them lined up on the edge of the tub, plus two conditioners, a deep conditioning mask I’d used exactly once, and something labeled “volumizing mousse” that I’d bought in a moment of optimism and never opened. They formed a small army against Marcus’s single bottle of all-in-one wash, which he used for his hair, his body, and probably his dishes if I wasn’t watching.
“You know,” his voice came from the doorway, “when I said you could move some things in, I didn’t mean your entire Target hair care aisle.”
“This is areasonableamount of products for a woman my age.”
“There are seven shampoos.”
“They do different things!”
“They all do one thing. They clean hair.”
“They clean hairdifferently. This one is for volume. This one is for shine. This one is clarifying, which you use when the other ones build up too much. This one?—”
“I’m sorry I asked.”
I caught his eye in the mirror and grinned. He was leaning against the doorframe in his bathrobe, coffee in hand, hair still rumpled from sleep. He looked annoyed. He also looked like home.
“Your towels are too small,” I said.
“My towels are normal-sized.”
“Your towels are hand towels masquerading as bath towels. I feel like I’m drying off with a napkin.”
“You could buy new towels.”
“I could. But then where would I put them? The towel rack is very minimalist.”
“The towel rack holds towels. That’s not minimalist, that’s functional.”
“It holdsonetowel. Maybe two if you fold creatively. I need at least three towels per shower.”
“Why do you need three towels?”
“One for my body, one for my hair, one for…” I trailed off. “Backup.”
“Backup towels.”
“You never know.”
He shook his head, but he was smiling—that soft, private smile that I was learning was just for me. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And yet you let me move in.”
“Temporary insanity.” He crossed the bathroom, wrapped his arms around me from behind, and met my eyes in the mirror. “I’m clearly not thinking straight.”
