The front door creaked open behind me, and I turned just in time to catch Ava walking in backward, arms full of boxes, muttering a string of curses about our newly painted door frame.
“Careful,” I said, reaching for the top box before it toppled. “You scratch that and you’re repainting it.”
“If I bleed through my jeans because I was lifting your damn boxes,” she huffed, dumping everything on the bench by the stairs, “you might be needing a new fiancée.”
I bit back a grin. “That how that works?”
“Today it is.”
She crossed the room with purpose and flopped onto the couch with a groan, pressing the heel of her hand to her lower belly. I followed her into the living room, dropping the last of the moving boxes beside the door.
We’d been engaged for three months, and we were officially moving in together.
Our house.
It still felt surreal.
A wide porch. Room for a swing. Enough yard for dogs or kids, or hell, both. She’d walked through it a month ago and said it smelled like possibility. I closed the deal the next morning.
She peeked up at me now from beneath her arm. “Don’t say it.”
“I wasn’t going to say it.”
She raised a brow.
I held up my hands. “Okay, fine. But it’s only been three months, baby. Doesn’t it take a while for the pill to get out of your system?”
Ava sighed. “I know.”
“And stress doesn’t help. Which means don’t stress. We’ve got forever. And if you’re really worried, we can just try harder.”
That got a smile out of her.
“Try harder, huh?”
“Any excuse to keep practicing,” I said, leaning over to kiss the edge of her jaw. She tilted her face up, and I caught the kiss she actually meant to give me.
A few minutes passed in comfortable silence. Ava rested her head on my shoulder, and I let my hand settle on her thigh, just holding her.
“How’s Remi?” I asked eventually.
Because it had dawned on me that I hadn't seen her in a while.
Ava stiffened just slightly. “Busy.”
I pulled back enough to look at her. “Busy like what?”
She sighed. “She’s been seeing someone.”
My brows lifted. “Since when?”
“A couple of months.”
“Who is it?”
Ava hesitated. “A biker. Calls himself Spike.”
I sat straight up. “I’m sorry. What the hell did you just say?”
