“Borrowed.”
“Did you plan on returning it?”
She looks at the shirt, then back at me. “No.”
Of course not.
I should probably be more concerned.
Months ago, I would have been.
Now?
I just toss it into her drawer.
Somewhere along the way, my things became her things.
And my house became our home.
I glance around the room,shaking my head.
When I moved in, this place was quiet. Predictable. Safe.
Or at least, that’s what I told myself.
Now her stuff is mixed with mine, Luna is chasing a piece of packing paper across the floor, and Violet is organizing my kitchen because apparently I’ve been putting things in the wrong cabinets since she moved in.
“You know this is my house too, right?” I ask.
She looks over her shoulder. “Yup. It’s our house.”
“You’re rearranging everything.”
“Yes.”
I wait.
She doesn’t elaborate.
“Okay,” I mutter. “Just checking.”
A smile curves her lips. “I’m improving efficiency.”
“You moved my coffee.”
“Closer to the coffee maker.”
I open my mouth, then close it.
Damn it.She’s right.
I hate when she’s right.
Which is most of the time.
The front door opens. Callie walks inside without knocking, carrying a box.
“Boundaries,” I say automatically.
