She delivered it like a realtor, completely deadpan. Maya snorted. Shane shook his head.
I watched Ava move through the space. She ran her fingers along the kitchen counter, checked the water pressure in the bathroom, and opened closets. When she reached the bedrooms, she paused. Pushed open the first door, glanced inside, then moved to the next.
"This one's bigger," she said.
"Yeah?"
"I call dibs."
"What?" I followed her into the room. "No negotiation?"
"I have a cat. He needs space to judge people." She turned to face me, arms crossed, the ghost of a smile playing at her lips. "Dibs."
"She makes a valid point," Zoe said from the doorway.
I looked at her. "You're supposed to be on my side."
"I'm on the side of good real estate decisions. The cat needs room."
Shane laughed. Maya was grinning. I stood in the middle of what might be our living room, watching the woman I'd been in love with for four years claim a bedroom in our apartment.
This was really happening.
"What do you think?" Ava asked.
She was looking at me, waiting. Behind her, sunlight streamed through the windows. Lots of natural lighting.
"I think we should take it."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." She paused. "But you should be the one to sign the lease. Just your name."
I understood immediately. No paper trail. Nothing that could lead Kevin or his father to this address.
"You sure?"
"It makes sense." She said it like it was simple logistics, but I caught the flicker of something underneath. The reality of what she was doing: making herself smaller to stay safe.
I hated that she had to think this way. Hated that Kevin Lang had made her life into something she needed to hide.
"Okay," I said. "Just my name."
She nodded.
The landlord lived on the first floor. I signed the paperwork that afternoon. Move-in date: next weekend.
That evening, back at my apartment, reality finally sank in.
We had an apartment. A place with my name on the lease, but meant for both of us. Two bedrooms and a ridiculous amount of natural light. A safe house disguised as a fresh start.
Ava was curled up on the couch, Watson in her lap, looking more relaxed than I’d seen her in weeks. I handed her a beer and settled into the armchair across from her.
"I like them," she said.
"Who?"
"Shane and Maya and Zoe." She took a sip of her beer, thoughtful. "They’re not what I expected."
