“I can help with that too.”
“There’s no need.” I turn to tell him not to worry about it, but he’s already behind me.
I almost run straight into him.
His hands come up automatically, gripping my arms to steady me.
“I didn’t know you were behind me.” My gaze lifts to his.
“Sorry.” He laughs softly. “Didn’t mean to scare you. But I can’t let you carry your bags by yourself.”
“It’s only two bags,” I protest. “And you’re already fixing my fridge.”
“I can carry your bags and then finish with the fridge.” He releases my arms. “I’m capable of multitasking.”
“Okay.” I laugh and turn toward the garage, with him right behind me.
He lifts the bags out of the truck and carries them inside with ease.
“Are these going up to the main room?”
“Yes, please.”
Without hesitation, he heads up the stairs with my entire life in his hands.
I grab Neptune’s bed from the back of the truck and carry it inside. When Neptune and Skye see it, they stand and move aside to make room for me.
“Right by the window?” I ask.
Neptune makes a low sound of approval.
I place the bed down, and he steps onto it, circles a few times, then curls up comfortably.
“There’s room for two, Skye,” I tell her, and she pads over and settles beside him, easily curling up against his side.
“I guess the extra-extra-large bed was a good idea after all,” I say out loud.
Aiden comes back down the stairs. “I need to run to my garage and grab a couple of tools. I’ll be right back.”
“Sounds perfect,” I say. “I’ll be upstairs unpacking.”
He smiles, heads out the back door, and I’m left standing in my living room, wondering how I’m already here — in this house, in this town, in this moment — with this man, in my space, helping me build a life I just arrived in.
I close my new sock drawer, rest my hands on it for a moment, and breathe. The bed is made with fresh sheets, and the room already feels lighter and more like home. I move around slowly, opening drawers, touching walls, letting myself get familiar with the space in a way that feels both exciting and slightly surreal.
I’ve wandered through most of the house by now, learning where the light falls, which doors creak, which windows catch the ocean just right, when my phone vibrates in my back pocket.
April:
Give me some intel, I’m dying here
I chuckle and type back.
Me:
He brought beer. We haven’t talked much. He’s downstairs with the dogs while I unpack my luggage.
June:
