I've shelled out for the Rolls Royce of movers, even though it's only a fifteen minute walk from here to my new place. They'll disassemble and reassemble the furniture while also transporting the boxes to the new home, where the team will be waiting to help me unpack.
Truly, I hardly have more boxes than Jamie did when he moved from the hotel to his loft – he wasn't wrong when he said my apartment was impersonal as hell. I'm hoping that will change, that my new place will be one that truly reflects who I am.
Jamie stands up, and I can't help but give his ass an appreciative gaze.
“Don't look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“You know like what. We're on a timeline, mister.”
I refrain from pointing out thatmytimeline left plenty of time for a morning quickie.
From his duffel, he grabs a change of clothes and quickly puts them on, then heads to the kitchen with his cup and mug. As he's drying them off and putting them in the final box with the blender, I hear the knock at the front door. Soon enough, a herd of movers are in the apartment, labeling boxes and taking them to the truck. Alexei arrives ten minutes later. He's volunteered to supervise the process here while we head over with the first load and start the process of unpacking.
“Have you seen reason and decided to move in with Ethan yet? I am sure I can convince the movers to add a stop,” Alexei says with a wink.
I wince inwardly. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't pictured Jamie moving into the house with me when I bought it. I'd even brought up the possibility in March after we'd gone to see the property for the first time after closing.
He'd let me down easy, asking me to hold off for the eight months until his lease would need to be renewed before we made any decisions like that. Still, he's been a huge part of helping me fix the place up – and I wouldn't have it any other way.
I half expect him to get upset at Alexei's suggestion, or at least to brush it off.
“I mean, it's a block and a half away from my place. I'm pretty sure the guys could just walk my stuff over.” He catches my eye and winks.
My eyes widen and follow Jamie as he gathers up the last few things we'll need to take with us – my suitcase, his bag, and a box marked in bold lettersDo Not Open!, wrapped in multiple layers of duct tape.
We learned at least one lesson from Jamie's move.
Hugging Alexei on our way out the door, we ride the elevatordown to the parking garage. We load the back of my SUV up with our cargo, then jump in to drive over to the new house. When we arrive, Sutter and Matthews are sitting out front in lawn chairs, blocking off two parking spots for the movers to use. It's 10 AM, but they've each got a beer cracked open, looking for all the world like a couple of frat boys, with their backward caps and sunglasses.
Waving at the boys, we head into the house with our suitcases. Inside, the smell of fresh paint and wood shavings still linger in the air. The floors have all been refinished, and a fresh coat of paint has gone into every room. While Jamie runs out for a second load, I carry the suitcases upstairs to the master suite.
It's not as big as the bedroom in my apartment, and it certainly doesn't have the same view of the Twin Cities skyline. Still, I prefer it; the French doors look out on a postage stamp-sized garden, with a view of the park behind it. The crown molding gives the space an elegant touch, though the occasional scuffs in the hardwoods make it feel like a home.
I hear Jamie's footsteps on the stairs and pull myself away from the windows.
“Alright, where are we going to hide this that twenty overgrown manchildren won't find it?”
His arms contain the not-at-all-inconspicuous box that I happen to know used up most of a roll of duct tape.
“I find the closet is useful for hiding.”
He rolls his eyes at me, but proceeds to push the box onto the top shelf of the bedroom closet. At this point, anyone who gets into that box absolutely deserves the surprise that's coming to them.
As Jamie lowers his heels back to the ground, I come up behind him. He turns in my arms, letting me push him up against the side of the closet. I bring my hand up to the side of his face, thumb brushing his cheek as I come down for a slow, sweet kiss.
This has been the best part of the last few months. Not the sex, not even sharing a bed. No, it's these simple moments, stuck into the everyday rhythms of our lives, where I no longer have to stop myself.I can grab his hand, or run a hand down his back, or steal a kiss without worrying about bringing the world down around us.
Before things can get too heated, I hear the ring of the doorbell.
It's time to get this show on the road.
Seven hoursand seemingly thousands of boxes later, the bulk of the move is done. While the movers handled the furniture – disassembling it in the apartment and then reassembling it here – the boys have been unloading boxes and bringing them to each room, where Jamie and I are doing our best to get them put away.
Lindy meticulously sorts dishes and utensils in the kitchen, half of which I know I've never used. Jamie is directing the living spaces, making sure the old furniture and the new stuff are arranged just right. As long as I can lay on the couch with him in my arms and watch the TV, I'll be happy.
I'm in the bedroom, getting clothes put away in the closet and drawers. The movers have just finished rebuilding the California King, the last piece of furniture to make the move over from the apartment. As I finish up my sock drawer, I become aware of a presence at the doorway. Turning, I see Jamie leaning against the frame, a crooked smile on his face.
