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“That’s the last box.”
I nod. “Perfect. Thanks so much for your hard work today,” I say, shaking the mover’s hand and giving him a wave as he heads out the door.
Then I spin around and look at the stack of fifteen boxes and the handful of furniture pieces in my living room.
“I told you I don’t have enough stuff to warrant hiring movers,” Ruby says as she strolls back into the living room, her eyes perusing her belongings before she settles on a lamp and a small, empty bookshelf. Picking them up, she returns in the direction she came from, the cord from the lamp dragging along the ground behind her.
“And I told you hiring movers isn’t about the amount of stuff. It’s about easing the moving process. You were able to finish up at your apartment yesterday, get a restful night of sleep, and then have your stuff delivered here this morning when you’re fresh and in the mood to unpack. And it’s Boston in February. It’s freezing outside. Did you really want lug everything back and forth in this weather?”
She narrows her eyes at me over her shoulder.
“Besides, doing it this way, I can be here to help.”
It was a big argument. Not an angry one, just a debate. The end of her lease was on a Friday when I had a presentation at work, so I wouldn’t have been able to take the day off to help her. Paying for movers and one night of storage meant I could be here to oversee the delivery then help her get her things settled in at my townhouse.
Well, our townhouse.
I’d been dropping hints to Ruby about us moving in together for over two months. My girl isn’t a dummy. She picked up on every one of those hints and swiftly shuffled them to the side, ignoring them completely.
Until I finally stopped hinting and actually asked. I explained to her how important it was for me to have us together, for our lives to be even more intertwined, to take that next serious step. I asked her to be brave and believe in our love enough to give it a chance.
Surprisingly, she agreed, and now she’s here, officially moved in.
“That would require you to actually help,” she jokes as she walks back into the living room, opening her arms to indicate the boxes spread out on the floor.
I roll my eyes. “Alright, alright. I guess it’s time to break a sweat, huh?”
Ruby and I spend hours getting her belongings set up in new homes throughout the house. Her toiletries and makeup in the bathroom. Her clothes hanging in the closet and put away in the dresser. Her shoes by the front door. Her books on the new bookshelf I bought for the living room.
Eventually, we get everything done, and I take a box cutter to the cardboard, slicing all the tape so everything is flat and leaning up against the wall next to the fridge for me to take out to recycling.
“I can’t believe we live together,” she says, giving me a big smile, her eyes wide as she looks around the place now that everything is put away.
“Having second thoughts?” I ask, pulling her against me and looping my hands together around her waist.
That day on the street outside the yoga studio, I didn’t know what was going to happen. I didn’t know if I would need to try over and over again to get her to give us another chance. I was lucky she was feeling brave that day, lucky she extended her hand to me and took a step forward.
It’s been a perfect metaphor for what our relationship has been like as Ruby has struggled to truly believe in the love we share. She takes one step, and I take three.
But I’m okay with that. If she needs to take baby steps, I can do that. If she wants to cling to me while I take larger steps forward, I can do that too.
As long as she never lets go.
As long as she holds on to me when something scary happens instead of pushing me away like she used to.
It’s been a winding road to get to this point, mostly amazing moments in the sun but also a few scattered showers here and there, but that’s love. That’s relationships. There are always storms, but love is about how you weather them together.
“Second thoughts?” she murmurs, pressing close and giving me a soft kiss. “Never.”
I grin, enjoying the confidence she has in me now, the confidence she has in us. I hope to only help build on that moving forward, to continue proving to her that I will always be here for her, at her side.
“You wanna go christen the bed?”
She rolls her eyes. “We’re both gross, and we’ve already christened that bed.”
I press my hips against her so she can feel how much I want her.
“But that was when it was just my bed. Now it’s our bed.”
