“Oh, I know,” I chuckle. “It’s not that.”

“Tell me. What is it?” When I hesitate, he adds, “Truth.”

“Truth is, I have a month before I need to move, a month until I’ll probably be out of a job again,” I say, shoulders deflating. “I don’t want to rush. What if my next job is an hour away?”

“Then, you’ll commute,” he says sternly. “Or we’ll move somewhere else together.”

“It’s not just that. Leaving that cottage scares me.”

“What? Why?”

“It’s my home, Grady. That place has been my saving grace for a decade. First, it comforted me after Mom left. Then, it let me be myself, building me up when there was no one else to do it. After that day, it was my safety net, my healing place. When I started at the G&G, all I had to do was look around my little place, and all I’d built to feel I could do anything. It’s hard, letting it go. Not because I don’t want to live with you. I’d pick living with you over Mom, of course. It’s just because… I don’t want to be without it. Yet.”

I fear I sound ridiculous, putting so much sentimental value in a tiny house. But for better or worse, it’s how I feel. That long chapter of my life is over—I must leave. But is it wrong to extend the epilogue until the last possible minute?

He sighs. “I understand. Take all the time you need.”

“Really?”

“Of course, but here’s what I think we should do.” He latches onto me again. “Whenever you stay the night, bring something of yours over. And whenever I stay the night with you, I’ll take something when I leave. Seeing your things a little at a time at my place might help ease you into the idea.”

I almost tear up over how sweet and understanding he is. “Kiss me.”

He takes my face in his hands and gives me the kind of kiss that makes me want to take him somewhere—anywhere—right this instant.

“We’ll start tonight,” I say, breathlessly. “I’ll come over for chess.”

His coy grin widens. “Yeah, chess. Perfect.”

46. Grady

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

Grady

A month earns me twelve potted plants, her PM CD collection (but not her boom box, oddly), six pieces of wall art (now lining my mantelpiece), three of her favorite coffee mugs, two sets of pajamas, and all of her board games (I took one each time I stayed). Staying at hers has helped me better understand how hard it is for her to leave. Her place is cozy, safe, and unequivocally her from its rescued décor, lively plants, and eclectic everything.