I crossed the yard and climbed the porch steps. By the time I reached the door, she was already there, pulling it open.
"You're back early," she said.
She rose on her toes to kiss me, and I dropped the toolbox so I could wrap my arms around her properly. She tasted like coffee and the cookies she'd baked this morning.
"Job finished faster than I expected." I pulled back just enough to look at her. "How's the studying?"
"Done for the day. I passed my last midterm." She grinned. "Aced it, actually. Ninety-four percent."
"That's my girl."
The words came out easy now. My girl. Because that's what she was. Mine, in every way that mattered.
Eunice's house-sitting arrangement had officially ended three days ago. Emory was supposed to go back to her apartment, her roommates, her old life. Instead, she'd called her landlord, helped find someone else to take over her lease, and made a trip back to get her belongings.
Most of those belongings were now scattered throughout my cabin. Her laptop on the kitchen table, surrounded by textbooks and legal pads. Her mug—the bright yellow one with the wordsRise and Shine—sitting next to my plain black one by the coffeemaker. Her yoga mat rolled up in the corner of the bedroom. Her shampoo in my shower, her toothbrush next to mine, her clothes hanging in my closet.
A month ago, the thought of someone else's things in my space would have made me twitchy. Now I couldn't imagine the cabin without them. Without her.
"I was thinking," she said, following me inside, "we could make that pasta you like tonight. The one with the garlic bread."
"You just want an excuse to eat an entire loaf of garlic bread."
"You say that like it's a bad thing."
I laughed—something I did a lot more these days—and pulled her close. "Whatever you want."
We cooked together, moving around the small kitchen in an easy rhythm we'd developed over the past few weeks. Shechopped vegetables while I browned the meat. I stirred the sauce while she buttered the bread. We bumped into each other constantly, and every time we did, one of us would steal a kiss.
This was what I'd been missing. Not just the physical intimacy, though that was incredible. But this—the ordinariness of it. The domesticity. Having someone to share a meal with, to laugh with, to build a life with.
I hadn't known how empty I was until she filled me up.
"Ma's going to be insufferable," Emory said as we sat down to eat. "When we tell her I'm staying."
"Ma's been insufferable since the first night I brought you to dinner."
"True." She twirled pasta around her fork. "But she'll be even worse now. She'll probably take credit for the whole thing."
We finished dinner and cleaned up, then headed into town. The evening was warm, spring finally settling in for good, as we drove down Main Street. The sun was sinking toward the mountains, painting everything gold and orange.
The Ridge Diner was busy for a weeknight. The usual crowd filled the booths—locals I'd come to recognize over the past three years, most of whom had watched my transformation from surly recluse to half of a couple.
Ma spotted us the second we walked in. "Well, well, well."
She abandoned the counter and made a beeline for us, arms already opening for a hug. Emory stepped into it easily. They'd become friends over the past few weeks—Emory stopping by the diner to study when she needed a change of scenery, Ma plying her with pie and gossip.
"Hi, Ma," Emory said.
"Don't you 'hi, Ma' me." Ma pulled back and fixed her with a knowing look. "I heard a rumor that Eunice's house-sitting is over and a certain young lady didn't go home."
"Rumors travel fast around here."
"Honey, rumors are the only thing that moves fast in this town." Ma turned her attention to me, her expression softening into something almost maternal. "You look happy, Kai Slater."
I felt my face warm. "I am."
"Good." She patted my cheek, then jabbed a finger at my chest. "Told you not to mess it up."
