“Two if you count Fiona. But it’s still better than zero people.”
We hit the furniture store next. It was a massive warehouse on the edge of town that catered to both human and monster-sized furniture. The owner, a troll named Greta, was all business, showing us various options for studio apartment living.
“Bed frame, mattress, couch, table, chairs,” I listed, feeling overwhelmed. “This is so expensive.”
“It’s necessary,” Geoff said. “You need furniture.”
“I could just get a mattress and some folding chairs.”
“Maya.”
“What? I’m being practical.”
“You’re being ridiculous.” He gestured to a nice bedroom set, nothing fancy, but solid and comfortable-looking. “Get the things you need. I’ll help with the cost until you get on your feet.”
“There’s no need. I pointed to my phone. My account’s linked on here. If they’ve got tap-to-pay, I can pay. You’ve already helped so much.”
“And I’m going to keep helping because that's what partners do.” His voice was gentle but firm. “Please. Let me do this for you.”
“Only if my bank account gets close to zero.”
“We’ll argue about that later.”
We selected the basics, a bed, a small couch, a table with two chairs. Greta promised delivery that afternoon, and we arranged to meet the truck at my apartment.
Which I still hadn’t seen beyond the quick tour online.
“Want to grab lunch before we deal with the apartment?” Geoff asked as we loaded more purchases into his truck. “There’s a diner that makes incredible burgers.”
“How often do you usually come into town?” I asked, noticing how many people he was greeting, how many shops he seemed familiar with.
He paused, really thinking about it. “Maybe once a month? Sometimes less. I order a lot online, and I stock up when I do come in.” He looked around the main street as if he were seeing it with fresh eyes. “This is the most I’ve been in town in years, actually. Usually, I’m in and out in an hour.”
“And now?”
“Now I have a reason to stay.” He pulled me close, seemingly unconcerned with who might be watching. “You make it bearable. Better than bearable.”
“I make you tolerate civilization?”
“You make me want to be part of it again.”
The words hit deeper than he probably intended. I thought about what Fiona had said about never seeing him as happy and engaged as he was. What if I wasn't just changing my life by moving here? What if I was changing his, too?
The thought was terrifying and exhilarating in equal measure.
We had lunch at the diner where the waitress definitely remembered Geoff and was friendly to me, then headed to the apartment. The building was on a quiet side street, a two-story structure with an empty storefront on the ground level and two apartments above.
“The landlord said the store’s been empty for months,” I said as Geoff unlocked the door to the stairs. “Apparently the last tenant was a fortune teller who left town suddenly.”
“Oh. I remember her, but not her name. According to the most reputable gossips, she predicted her own departure. Very on-brand.”
We climbed the narrow stairs, no elevators in this building. Geoff had to duck to avoid hitting his head on the low ceiling, and I unlocked the apartment door.
The space was tiny, much smaller than I remembered from the virtual tour. The studio was maybe five hundred square feet, with a tiny kitchenette in one corner, a bathroom barely bigenough to turn around in, and a single window that looked out over the alley. Geoff could never fit inside the bathroom. He took up most of the space inside the room.
“It’s cozy,” Geoff said diplomatically.
“It’s a shoebox.”
