That wasn’t true, and it wasn’t the point. What I meant was I didn’t like how complete it looked without the second chair. I didn’t like how easy it was to imagine himsettling into something that didn’t leave space for anything beyond what he had already decided.
I wasn’t saying that out loud in a furniture store on a Sunday. So resale value it was.
He held my gaze a second longer than necessary, steady enough that I knew he had heard something underneath it even if he chose not to name it.
“I’ll get both,” he said.
“Good.”
He nodded once. “Because of the resale value.”
“Exactly.”
We cut through the marketplace side of Norden where everything was stacked like you were supposed to already have a plan before you picked anything up. Open bins, shelves just high enough to test your confidence, rows of kitchen pieces that looked better once you committed to them.
I slowed near the glassware without saying anything, and he adjusted with me the same way he always did, matching pace without asking what I had seen.
There was a set on the back shelf that felt right immediately. Simple and clean. Glassware that didn’t try too hard and still ended up better than everything around it.
“Those,” I said, already stepping in and angling myself toward the shelf. Of course they were out of reach. I rose onto my toes, stretching just enough to get my fingers to the edge of the box, brushing it once before it shifted back into place like it had decided not to cooperate.
Behind me, Deion stayed quiet, giving me the space to work through it the way he always did.
“Nova,” he said after a second, not moving yet, just watching.
“I have it,” I told him, adjusting my stance and reaching again, this time bracing my foot against the lower shelf like that was going to make a difference.
“You don’t,” he said, and I could hear the edge of amusement in it even without looking at him.
“I do,” I said, stretching a little farther, fully committed now.
I was one adjustment away from making a decision I was going to stand by when he stepped in behind me, close enough that the space shifted without warning. His hand came to my waist, light and familiar, settling there like it had done it a hundred times before, steadying without holding.
My body answered before my brain did, leaning back into him just slightly, like nothing about that had changed.
He reached past me with his other hand and pulled the box down easily, no stretch, no effort, like the shelf had always been meant for him.
“Got it,” he said, setting it into my hands.
I didn’t move right away, my fingers closing around the box while the rest of me stayed exactly where I was. Because his hand was still at my waist. And we both knew it.
It wasn’t anything we would have noticed before. It was something that would have passed without comment,morphing into everything else we had always been to each other.
Now it didn’t pass.
He stepped back first, smooth about it, the shift subtle enough that it could have been about space if you didn’t look too closely. His hand dropped away as he adjusted his jacket, already redirecting the moment into something safer.
“You want this set?” he asked, his tone even, like we had not just crossed into something we weren’t going to name.
I lowered onto my heels and turned the box slightly in my hands, giving myself something to focus on while I reset.
“Yeah,” I said, nodding once. “That’s the one.”
“You were about to climb that,” he added, glancing at the shelf like he was confirming it for himself.
“I had it handled,” I said, shifting the box against my hip.
“You had that all figured out,” he said, his mouth tipping just slightly. “That’s not the same thing.”
