I glance down at Violet, peaceful inourbed. My gut clenches with frustration. I don’t want Melissa’s shit or anything from my past coming into my life now.
I pull her back into my chest and press my lips to her shoulder, inhaling her lavender scent. This right here is all that matters.
The next morning,I wake before Violet. She’s sleeping on her stomach, one arm tucked beneath her pillow and hair spilling across her back.
I slip out of bed quietly. It’s still early, and after yesterday’s move, she deserves the rest. I pull on a pair of sweats, grab my phone, and head downstairs, Bramble following at my heels.
The kitchen is a mess of half-unpacked boxes and misplaced utensils. I navigate around them, starting the coffee maker, and let Bramble out the back door.
My phone buzzes in my hand. Three missed calls from Melissa.
“Shit,” I mutter, setting the phone face down on the counter. I pour myself a cup of coffee, trying to focus on the day ahead rather than the past that keeps trying to claw its way back in.
I hear Violet’s footsteps on the stairs before I see her. She appears in the doorway wearing one of my T-shirts, her hair tousled from sleep.
“Morning,” she says, her voice husky from exhaustion. She crosses to me, rising on her toes to press a kiss to my lips. “You’re up early.”
I doctor up the coffee that was originally intended for me, fixing it the way she likes—two sugars and a splash of that awful creamer she likes. “Thought I’d get a head start on unpacking.”
She takes a sip, humming appreciatively. “My hero.” She studies my face for a moment, her head tilting to one side. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” I lie, turning to hide my expression as I open the fridge. “Just thinking about all the unpacking we need to do.”
Bramble scratches at the back door, and I let her in, grateful for the distraction. The dog bounds over to Violet, tail wagging as she leans against her legs.
“I think someone’s happy I’ve moved in permanently,” Violet laughs, reaching down to scratch behind Bramble’s ears.
“She’s not the only one,” I say, and this time, my smile is genuine.
The sight of her sleepy and soft in my kitchen, wearing my clothes, petting my dog—hits me like a physical force. It’s so fucking simple, but it’s everything.
The intensity of what I feel for her sometimes scares me. She’s my center of gravity, the axis my world turns on. I want to give her everything.
“What are you thinking about so hard over there?” she asks, straightening up and taking another sip of coffee.
I cross over to her, sliding my hands around her waist.
“Let’s go out tonight,” I say. “Somewhere nice. Just you and me.”
Her eyebrows lift. “A date?”
“A date.” I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “We shouldcelebrate you moving in properly. Dinner, wine, the whole thing.”
A slow smile spreads across her face. “That sounds perfect.”
The day passes in a blur of unpacking and arranging, working together to blend our lives into one shared space. My phone buzzes twice more, but I ignore it, focusing on the woman in front of me instead.
By evening, the house is starting to take shape. Most of the boxes are put away, her books mingling with mine on the shelves, her clothes hanging beside mine in the closet. It feels right. Like this is how it was always meant to be.
I’m buttoning my shirt when she steps out of the bathroom. The sight of her steals my breath. Her green dress hugs her curves, the color making her eyes shine even brighter than usual. Her golden hair falls in soft waves around her shoulders, and a small gold pendant necklace lays just below her collarbone.
“Jesus, Violet.” My hands fall still. “You walk out looking like that and expect me to behave?”
She lifts a brow, the barest smirk tugging at her lips.
I take a step closer, eyes locked on her mouth. “You look so good it’s fucking disrespectful.”
She laughs, her eyes raking down the line of my shirt. “You’re one to talk.”