Nora had fought him and Jonah on it at first, clasped-hands anxiety over whether Will felt like he had to do this, for her, promises that she’d be okay, if Jonah had wanted or needed to go somewhere else. And Will, too, had been anxious—would she think it was too rash, him living so close, so soon? Would it seem too reckless, too selfish? But they’d worked it out, reassurances going both ways, a slow start that they’d worked out across their balconies, golden hours of getting to know each other in ways they hadn’t allowed for before. Even on the nights—the many nights—when they’d slept together, they’d still done it, retreating to their respective spaces, making sure they made things solid both for themselves and for each other before they’d done more.

Ten months ago, on the same night Nora had landed her most lucrative design contract yet, she’d made a gigantic pot of sauce and surprised Will by serving a meal out on the balcony, a new table and two chairs waiting. “Two chairs, Will,” she’d said, sweeping her hand across the set. “If you’d want to join me for good, from now on.”

He’d moved in—officially—a month later.

He shifted behind her, gently caging her between the balcony railing and his body in a way he knew she liked, and listened to her talk about the day ahead, her frustration about the fridge-sharing situation at her coworking space, her lunch date with a couple of the friends she’d made there, a meeting she had with a prospective client. He was glad to have had the memory about the time she’d asked him to move in; it was a good reminder for tonight. Bringing him into her space, into the apartment she’d spent months working so hard on, almost all on her own—that was always going to have been her call, and he was always going to wait to do what he was about to do until after she’d asked.

He’d waited for the right time, and he knew it was now.

“Will,” she laughed. “I asked you a question.”

He dropped his head to her shoulder, sighing out an apology and fogging up his glasses in the process.

“You scrambled my brain in there,” he said, which was absolutely not a lie, even if it wasn’t the whole truth. She laughed again and subtly pushed herself back into him, a taunt he deserved and enjoyed and definitely responded to.

“Let’s go back in,” he said against her neck.

“It’s pretty late,” she said, but he could feel the skin under his mouth pebbling. He let his thumb tease beneath the hem of her camisole.

“Still early,” he said quietly.

“Mmm.”