“You did this?” I asked in complete shock and denial. Things like this didn’t happen in my world.
“Excuse me. It wasn’t all him.” Sienna stood next to her brother, her expression one of unimpressed judgment.
“I’m without words…” I ran my hands through my hair and shook my head. “But thanks.”
“No.” Beck smiled. “Thankyoufor not moving in the middle of summer. Autumn suits hauling boxes much better.”
I chuckled. “I’m honestly… I can’t thank you enough.”
“Well,” Sienna said, folding her arms. “Those boxes aren’t going to lift themselves, Florida.”
I gave her a sidelong glance and shook my head. “You can’t call me that anymore. I even got my car licensed here. Officially a Wisconsinite.”
She grinned. “Still sounds fake.”
Beck snorted. “Let the man unpack first before you give him a hard time. At least he’s not wearing sandals with socks.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but froze as the screen door behind us creaked open.
And just like that, the heat on my skin had nothing to do with the sun.
Fifi stepped out, carrying a cardboard tray of iced coffees. Her dark hair was still tied up in a messy bun, sunglasses perched on her head, and a wide smile that made my pulse do regrettable things.
“I come bearing caffeine and sarcastic commentary,” she said, handing me a cup. “Fuel for your relocation-induced midlife crisis.”
I laughed. “That’s generous. I was hoping to hold off on the crisis part until I realized how many mystery cords I packed without labels.”
“Oh, you’re already in denial,” she teased. “Classic.”
Sienna reached for her cup and bumped my shoulder on purpose. “Don’t let him fool you. He’s the type who alphabetizes his spices. I peeked in one of the boxes.”
“Not true,” I said. “Only the ones with more than one syllable.”
“Terrifying,” Beck muttered.
I sipped my drink and turned back to my house. A small white bungalow with blue shutters, a wraparound porch, and more flower boxes than seemed strictly necessary. It wasn’t the sleek Florida condo I’d lived in before. It wasn’t even my style, if I was honest.
But the moment I saw it, something inside me had clicked.
It looked like a beginning.
“Alright,” Fifi said, pulling on a pair of gloves from her back pocket. “Who’s ready to make regrettable life choices involving heavy lifting?”
“You married into this town yet?” Beck asked.
“Close,” I said softly, glancing at Fifi.
“What?” Fifi asked, turning around. “Who are you marrying, Beck?”
He frowned. “No, not me. I said, Is Ben married to this town yet?”
She chuckled as her cheeks flushed. “Let’s get on it.”
I took a sip of coffee and set it on the bumper.
The first few trips were full of groaning and griping, with Beck muttering about deadlifts and Sienna trying to guess the contents of each box based on weight and sound alone.
“Is this your gym equipment?” Sienna asked, nearly dropping a box. “Or your emotional baggage?”
