Moving in
990 Words
Emma stood in the doorway of the guest bedroom—her bedroom now, apparently—and tried not to panic.
She’d seen fancy homes on TV before, but living in one? That was something else entirely. Everything was sleek, expensive, and perfectly arranged. No mismatched mugs. No chipped tile floors. No cozy messes.
She didn’t belong here. And she was starting to feel it.
“This room okay?” Alexander asked behind her.
She turned to see him leaning against the doorframe, sleeves rolled up, looking casually perfect as usual.
“It’s… beautiful,” she said honestly. “Bigger than my entire apartment.”
“There’s a private bathroom through that door. Closet space should be enough. If you need anything else, just tell me.”
Emma gave a small smile. “You act like this is a business transaction.”
He shrugged. “Isn’t it?”
That stung more than it should’ve.
Before she could reply, a blur of blonde curls came bounding into the room.
“Miss Emma!” Lily squealed, throwing herself into Emma’s arms.
Emma laughed, catching her. “Hey, sweetheart! You okay with me living here for a while?”
Lily’s eyes sparkled. “Yes! Daddy said we’re going to be a family now.”
Emma glanced over Lily’s shoulder at Alexander. His expression had gone carefully blank.
“Sort of,” Emma said softly. “We’re going to take care of each other, that’s for sure.”
Lily grinned and ran out of the room again, singing something about pancakes and princesses.
Emma stood slowly, brushing her hands on her jeans.
“You know she’s going to take this seriously, right?” she said, not looking at him. “You can’t just un-mother me later without hurting her.”
“I know,” Alexander said. “That’s why I asked you.”
That stopped her. She looked up. “What does that mean?”
He hesitated. “It means… I’ve seen how you are with her. You make her feel safe. Loved. Julia never had that effect.”
Emma’s chest tightened. “Then don’t mess this up for her.”
“I won’t,” he said quietly. “That’s why I need this to work.”
A silence settled between them, tense but not entirely cold.
“I’ll unpack,” she said finally.
He nodded and left the room, leaving her with her bags and a racing heart.
Downstairs, Alexander poured himself a drink and stared out at the city skyline through the massive glass windows.
He hadn’t lied—Emma was the best choice. She was kind, grounded, and, most importantly, Lily adored her. But what unsettled him was the way he was starting to notice things he shouldn’t.
Like how her laughter softened the edges of a room. Or how her eyes warmed every time she looked at his daughter.
This was a contract. An arrangement. Nothing more.
He couldn’t afford to forget that.
Later that evening, the scent of pasta drifted from the kitchen as Emma stood barefoot in front of the stove, stirring marinara sauce like she’d been doing it in this house for years.
Lily sat at the island, swinging her legs and humming to herself while coloring. Alexander, leaning against the fridge with his sleeves pushed up and a glass of water in hand, watched them both.
He didn’t realize how quiet the house had been until tonight.
“Dinner’s almost ready,” Emma said without looking up.
“You didn’t have to cook,” he replied.
“I know,” she said, glancing over her shoulder. “But I didn’t want to spend my first night here eating takeout in awkward silence.”
Lily giggled. “Daddy’s always awkward.”
Alexander raised an eyebrow. “I am not.”
Emma smirked. “You kind of are.”
He couldn’t argue. Not when Lily was looking at him with sparkles in her eyes and Emma was stirring sauce like she belonged here.
They sat down together—Emma between Lily and Alexander. The dining table felt less cold somehow, the food warmer than anything catered or prepped by a chef.
“This is really good,” Alexander admitted after the first bite.
Emma gave him a sidelong glance. “You sound surprised.”
“I am.”
She rolled her eyes. “Men.”
Lily laughed again, and Alexander leaned back in his chair, watching the two most important girls in his life share a moment. It felt dangerously… comfortable.
After dinner, Emma insisted on doing the dishes, even though Alexander offered to have the housekeeper return.
“You’re trying too hard,” he said, leaning on the doorway to the kitchen.
“No,” she said without looking up. “I’m trying just hard enough. Someone has to make this feel real.”
He folded his arms. “It doesn’t have to be this real.”
Emma turned to him, suds on her hands, a smirk on her lips. “You want to win the custody battle, right? Then you better hope I’m convincing.”
He stared at her for a beat too long. She was right. She was way too good at this.
And that scared him.
Later that night, Emma stepped into her new bedroom, emotionally exhausted. She stared at the bed—far too big, far too soft-looking—and sighed.
This wasn’t her world. Not really.
But for Lily… she could pretend.
As she climbed under the covers, her phone buzzed.
Unknown Number:
I had the paperwork sent to your email.
• Alexander
A second message followed.
Thank you. For tonight.
Emma stared at the screen for a moment, fingers hovering above the keyboard.
Then, slowly, she typed:
Don’t thank me. This is what you paid for, remember?
She hit send… and regretted it instantly.
But Alexander didn’t reply.
And she wasn’t sure if the silence made her feel better—or worse.
- Writer
