Careful.
Balancing.
Building something neither of us is ready to name.
I exhale slowly. “We should probably sleep,” I say.
“Probably.”
He steps closer once more and gives me a soft side hug, carefully, like he’s still honoring the line we drew earlier.
“Tomorrow’s going to be normal,” he says quietly. “I’ll drop Maddie at school. We’ve got a team meeting in the morning, then practice. I’ll hit the gym after. Jenna’s picking Maddie up and taking her to hockey. She leaves next Friday. We have to get on that."
He pulls back just enough to look at me. “We’ll meet back here for dinner?”
The normalcy of it steadies something in me.
“I have two morning calls,” I tell him. “Then I’m heading into the office for a few hours."
I hold his gaze. “Yes. Home for dinner. I’ll swing by the grocery store on the way back. How about I make my famous spaghetti and meatballs for our first dinner here?
"Sounds great."
"It's really good. You'll like it."
“Goodnight, Natalie.”
“Goodnight, Gabriel.”
No husband.
No wife.
Just us.
I walk back upstairs, aware of every creak in the floor.
Inside my room, I close the door and lean against it.
My lips still feel warm.
I press my fingers there.
This was not part of the plan.
The plan was simple.
Stable.
Strategic.
This is none of those things.
This is messy and charged and very, very real.
I crawl back into bed and stare at the ceiling again.
The house hums softly around me.
