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Jamie is awake when I get home. I need to get his tolerances right for errands.

I put the groceries away first. Then I carry his suitcases upstairs.

He’s sitting on the bed when I unlock the door. His hair is tangled from sleeping, and there’s a crease across one cheek.

His eyes go straight to the suitcases. “You actually fucking went.”

“I don’t say things I don’t mean.” I set the first suitcase on his bed and unzip it.

Jamie stands. “You went through my stuff?”

“I had to pack it.”

“You didn’t have to do any of this.”

I take out his shampoo and conditioner.

His eyes widen. “You went through my bathroom?”

“I found the vanilla.”

“Jesus Christ. You need help, Heather.”

I carry the bottles into his bathroom and replace the coconut ones. When I come back, Jamie is going through the suitcase.

He spins to face me. “Where’s the rest?”

“I brought the good things.” I take out the dark green cardigan and hang it in his wardrobe.

Behind me, Jamie starts pulling things from the suitcase faster. “You left my jeans.”

“They’re ugly.”

“They’re supposed to be ugly.”

“That doesn’t make them better. I like your legs.”

“Holy fucking shit.” He drops onto the edge of the bed and presses both hands over his face.

I keep unpacking. He won’t miss that shit once he gets used to having nicer things. I hang the plaque above his vanity.

Jamie lowers his hands. “You’re not letting me go, are you?”

“No.” I reach into the suitcase again.

I lift out the duck. “I found him on your bookshelf.”

“You brought Duck.” He takes him from me. Jamie’s thumb runs over the green stitches holding one wing in place.

“You named a duck Duck?”

“I was six.” His eyes lift to mine.

I take The Ugly Duckling from the suitcase and set it on his nightstand.

Jamie looks from the book to the plaque above his vanity. “You went through fucking everything.”

“I needed to know what belonged here.”