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Her grin lights up her face before she rests her cheek on my chest, staring out the window.
“Will you miss it?” I ask her quietly.
“No,” Claire says without hesitation. “I’m happy to be closing this chapter. But do you know what my favorite memory here is?” She turns back to me with a coy smile, teeth pressing into her lower lip. “When you came over and saved me from the monster spider.”
I throw my head back, laughing. “It was tiny.”
“It was on performance-enhancing drugs.”
I scoop the box off the floor and tangle my fingers with hers, kissing her soft pout. “Come on, roomie. I hid a spider somewhere upstairs and I can’t wait to see how long it takes you to find it. Your frying pan is waiting on the counter.”
“I knew my spidey senses were tingling. Is that what’s for dinner?”
“Only the best for the woman I never thought I’d find.”
“This one’s nice,” I call over my shoulder, scrolling through the pictures on my laptop from my spot on the couch.
“You say that about all of them,” Claire shouts back. She’s been standing in front of the wall of pictures for nearly an hour. Some of that time has been spent rearranging photos, but for the most part, she’s just staring at the two canvases I put up. “And then you hate every single one when we go see it.”
“Well, they’re not good enough,” I grumble. They manage to hide all the imperfections in the photos when they list a house for sale. But I’m detail-oriented, so I don’t miss a single thing once I’m inside. Our realtor hates me.
“Avery, you know I don’t care. I’ll be happy anywhere with you. I’m happy here.”
“You won’t be forever. We need a yard.”
We have two dogs and a cat who likes to randomly take off at the speed of light across the entire length of the condo. Sure, they look cute right now—Sully, Turkey, and Chester all snuggled up on the giant dog bed together. But in the middle of the night, I swear the entrance to hell has been opened.
“I’ve been living here all of two hours and you’re already looking for a new place to live.”
“You’ve been living here since you accidentally told me you love me,” I mumble around a handful of Sour Cherry Blasters. They’re the only thing that keep Claire’s nausea at bay, so I bought twenty bags at the grocery store last week. It’s not faring well for me so far. My tongue is raw, and we’re already down five bags.
Claire sinks down to the cushion beside me, resting her head on my shoulder. “That one looks nice. Let’s buy it.”
“You’ve looked at one picture!”
“And it’s a very nice powder room.”
“You’re infuriating.”
“You’re picky.”
“Damn right I am. That’s why you’re mine.”
Giggling, she touches her lips to mine. “I really don’t care where we live, Avery. I want you to choose.”
“You gotta give me something,” I plead, shaking her. “Brick or siding? Two-car garage or three? Unfinished basement or finished? Pool or no pool?”
She thinks for a moment, tapping her chin. “Pool.”
“Hell yeah!” I whoop, punching a fist through the air. Grabbing her, I tip her backwards over the couch, covering her body with mine as I drop my laptop to the ground. “We’re fucking getting somewhere!”
“Does that one have a pool?”
“No.” With my foot, I slam the lid down on the laptop. “We’ll have to keep looking.”
Claire lets out the longest, most dramatic groan I’ve ever heard. I consider timing it on my watch once we pass the ten-second mark.
“Are you done?” I ask with the arch of my brow and a smile I can’t get rid of.
