We head upstairs together. "Second room on the left."
I push the door open.
It’s neutral. Clean. A little bare.
“I figured this gives you room,” I add. “You can set up your office. Keep your own space.”
I set down her suitcase as she looks around.
“Your very thoughtful.”
“I try.”
“Especially if you snore, right?”
“Then I’m doing you a favor.”
She smiles.
Not wide.
Just enough.
Maddie appears in the doorway holding fairy lights.
“She needs these,” she announces.
Natalie kneels. “You think so?”
“Yes. Married people need sparkly lights.”
I choke back a laugh.
“Sparkly lights are important,” I agree gravely.
Maddie nods like we’ve passed a test.
The next hour is a blur of small domestic chaos.
Daisy claims Maddie’s beanbag chair.
Maddie negotiates like a tiny lawyer, hands on her hips, presenting arguments about beanbag ownership and visitation rights like she’s drafting a custody agreement for a stuffed animal.
Natalie hangs two dresses in the closet and lines her shoes carefully along the wall.
And then her toothbrush appears in my bathroom.
That’s the moment it hits.
Not the vows.
Not the kiss.
The toothbrush.
She belongs here now.
***
