They carried the last box up the stairs because the elevator had decided to be difficult. Emilia set it down in the kitchen and leaned on the counter that would someday stop being sticky.
“Tell me again why we didn’t hire movers,” she said.
“Because you don’t like strangers handling your books,” Rafael said, dropping his box beside hers. “And because I wanted to see you win against gravity.”
She blew a curl off her forehead. “I did.”
He brushed paint from her cheek with his thumb. “You did.”
The wall behind them was half Streetlight, half pear. The new deadbolt Elena had brought clicked like a promise. Their two mugs sat on the sill, already pretending they had been here for years.
Nora pushed the door with her hip, pizza box in her hands. “I bring carbohydrates and gossip.”
“Bless
