“No.” He looked down at his plate. “Had someone to wake up to. Someone I wanted to make breakfast for. Someone who looks at my busted barstools and says, ‘Yes, this’ll do.’”
My stomach flipped, not from nerves, but something quieter. Steadier. Like love, settling in for the long haul.
“I like your barstools.”
“They squeak.”
“I squeak.”
He grinned. “You do.”
I took a long sip of coffee and watched him over the rim of my mug. “I like this, Greyson. This morning. This house. You.”
His eyes softened. “Then stay.”
It didn’t feel like a proposal. It felt like an invitation to breathe.
“You mean move in?” I asked carefully.
He reached across the table and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Whatever version of staying you’re ready for, I’ll take it.”
The words hit somewhere deep in my chest.
He wasn’t asking me to change. He wasn’t promising that things would always be easy. He was just giving me a place to land.
I reached for his hand. “Then yes.”
His grin was slow and bright, like sunrise. “Yeah?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
After breakfast, I stood at the sink rinsing plates while he dried. We didn’t speak much, we just passed things between us, shoulder to shoulder, hips brushing. It felt like something sacred.
Halfway through, he leaned over, kissed my neck, and whispered, “This is my favorite version of us.”
“What version is that?”
“The one where we get to stay, forever.”
I head over to Madison’s house to get some much needed baby time. I still can’t believe I decided to move in with Greyson. It feels like a dream, and I never want to wake up. I pause at the front door, deciding I will enjoy a couple more days of baby bliss before telling her I am moving out. The soft coo of a newborn and the gentle hum of Madison singing off-key was the kind of music I never knew I needed.
I stood in the doorway of the nursery, arms crossed over my chest, watching as Madison cradled Olive against her shoulder, swaying side to side like it was second nature. Her hair was messy, her eyes a little tired, but there was something almost magical in the way she held her daughter. Like she was made for this, even if she’d never planned it.
“You want a break?” I asked, stepping forward.
Madison turned, grinning. “She just went down. But if you want snuggle duty, I won’t argue.”
“I always want snuggle duty.”
She gently passed Olive to me, the baby curling instinctively into my chest like she recognized the rhythm of my heart. Her tiny fingers peeked out from her swaddle, and I kissed the top of her soft head, inhaling that newborn scent that made everything feel lighter.
“I still can’t believe she’s here,” I whispered, rocking slowly. “Or that I’m here.”
Madison smiled from the rocking chair, pulling her legs up beneath her. “You stayed, Blair. You didn’t run. That means something.”
I met her eyes across the room. “You’re the reason I stayed.”
She blinked, surprised. “Me?”
