“Right, right. Yes. Like I told you before, I couldn’t see you in Berkeley. And I’m definitely sure I couldn’t see you in Pasadena. Caltech was great, but not for me. Not for us. You okay with that?”

“More than okay, Plum.”

“I know there are a few things we’re still waiting on, but I think I like Harvard. Their program is amazing; the school is top-notch, obviously. It’s a little less money than Princeton, but I think I have some negotiating room there, even though I know New Jersey would definitely be the easiest in terms of living arrangements and the general upheaval of our lives—”

“You know that’s not a factor for me,” he said. “You haven’t spent your entire adult life building a career so you can do what’s easiest.”

“I know, and thank you for getting that. I see many blow jobs in your future for being such an amazing, understanding husband. I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He paused. “So... Harvard?” he asked, and it was impossible to miss the hopefulness in his voice.

“I think so? They really want me, and I think I’d have the most flexibility there, which ... is something I really want. Balance. You remember that, don’t you?” I said, smiling into my dark hotel room.

“Balance sounds pretty fucking great. So we’re moving back to Boston, then?”

“If you think you could be happy there?”

“I think I could be happy wherever you are,” he said, and I was pretty sure he was smiling, too.

If this Harvard thing didn’t pan out, Will and I could definitely not fall back on a career as professional movers.

The first weekend after Caltech, and only three days before our honeymoon, we woke up, made coffee together, went for a run, met friends for brunch, and headed home. It dissolved into chaos from there.

By eleven that morning, we’d accomplished nothing more than covering our living room in folded cardboard boxes. I somehow managed to tape my ponytail to a box, and when Will finally found me, painstakingly trying to remove a strip of boxing tape from my hair, he ended up going down on me on the coffee table.

I wasn’t actually sure how it happened.

Not that I was complaining.

In our bedroom, we decided to tackle Will’s comic book collection.

The bedside table is where most men would keep porn. Though as I watched Will unload precious issue after issue and then stack them reverently on the bed with a sort of wild, glazed look in his eyes, I realized this was identical to his reaction to porn anyway.

I flopped on the bed and started skimming an issue. In my peripheral vision I sensed Will watching me, brows furrowed and a frown tugging at the corner of his mouth.