The coffee bought him entry into the house, and by the end of the morning, Rizzo had proven himself to be genuinely useful. He carried boxes without complaint, assembled patio furniture, and at one point, Evan found him perched on a ladder, installing curtain rods, while CJ stood below, giving him unnecessary instructions.
By late afternoon, the house looked less like a construction zone and more like a place where people might actually live. The couch was assembled, the television worked, and the kitchen was mostly unpacked—including the coffeemaker—and the bed frame had been put together. Progress.
Around eight o’clock, Evan carried another box into the living room and nearly tripped over Rizzo. The younger man was sprawled across the hardwood floor beside the couch, one arm flung over his eyes. A half-eaten slice of pizza rested precariously on a paper plate near his shoulder, surrounded by the evidence of a long day: an empty sports drink bottle, crumpled napkins, and an empty pizza box. He was completely asleep.
Evan shook his head with a smile, set his box down, and gathered the trash before nudging Rizzo’s leg with his foot. “Hey, time to go home.”
Rizzo groaned. “I am home.”
“You absolutely are not.”
“Rude.”
Rizzo climbed to his feet, and Evan and CJ walked him to the front door, laughing as Rizzo continued to protest. Before leaving, he pulled CJ into a quick hug, then wrapped Evan in one too.
“Love you guys,” he mumbled sleepily.
“Drive safe,” Evan said, ignoring the sudden warmth in his chest.
Rizzo saluted lazily and shuffled down the walkway toward his truck. A minute later, his taillights disappeared down the street, and Evan closed the door behind him, still smiling.
After Rizzo left, the first thing Evan noticed was the quiet. Not complete silence, but enough that they could clearly hear the dog barking down the street and the faint hum of traffic that drifted in from streets far enough away to turn it into white noise. But it was quiet in the ways that mattered. With no neighbors stomping overhead, no elevator dinging loudly, no loud music blaring into the hallway. Just silence, in their space.
CJ stood at the kitchen island with both hands braced on the butcher block, staring out at the open space of the family room like he still didn’t quite believe it was theirs.
“It still feels fake,” he said quietly.
“Yeah,” Evan agreed. He pulled open the fridge and grabbed two bottles of water, tossing one to CJ before opening his.
“You know what the weirdest thing is?” CJ asked.
“What?”
“We’re, like, actually building a life together.” CJ looked around again, a soft smile on his face that Evan had learnedmeant he was feeling something he couldn’t quite name. “That’s insane.”
Evan stayed silent long enough that CJ glanced over at him.
“What?”
Evan realized he was staring, and he shook his head. “Nothing.”
“Liar.” CJ walked over to him, and the kitchen light glinted off the silver chain around his neck. “You’ve been looking at me weird all night.”
Evan smiled. “Just thinking.”
“About?” CJ stepped closer.
Evan considered the question. How did he explain that he’d spent years mourning something he’d thought was gone forever? That he’d built walls so high he’d convinced himself he preferred to be alone? How did he explain that CJ had somehow broken them all down? That loving him had always been easy. That losing him had nearly broken him. That them finding their way back to each other had saved him.
In the end, he gave the simplest answer. “You.”
“Yeah?” CJ’s expression softened, and he leaned forward and kissed him, slow and gentle and certain. When they finally pulled apart, CJ rested his forehead against Evan’s, pulling back when Evan laughed softly. “What?”
Evan stepped away, and his heart pounded as he reached into his pocket and pulled out the small velvet box he’d been carrying for a week.
For a moment, CJ just stared, then his eyes widened. “Evan…”
Evan swallowed hard and kept his head down. “I had this whole speech planned.”
