Moving into Liam’s apartment happened in layers.
First came the logistics.
Boxes. So many boxes.
Mara stood in her small bedroom, hands on her hips, surveying her possessions. It was…less than she’d expected, seeing it all stacked on the floor.
Two suitcases of clothes. One box of kitchen things. Another of Hallie’s toys and books. A plastic bin of photos, her parents’ old mugs wrapped in newspaper.
“You travel light,” Liam said from the doorway, leaning against the frame, sleeves rolled.
She jumped. “I thought you were at the office.”
“I was,” he said. “I left. Sam threatened to chain me to my desk, but I told him I had more important things to lift.”
Her mouth quirked. “You, lifting boxes?” she said. “Isn’t that manual labor? I thought CEOs only lifted…graphs.”
“Pie charts,” he said solemnly. “Sometimes bar graphs if we’re feeling wild.”
She snorted.
He stepped into the room, scanning the stacks.
“This is it?” he asked.
Heat crept up her neck.
“This is…what fits into two apartments and four evictions,” she said. “We had to…prioritize.”
Something sharp flickered across his face.
“Hey,” he said softly. “I didn’t mean—”
“I know,” she said quickly. “It’s fine.”
He hesitated.
“Do you want to bring the bed?” he asked. “Or…?”
She glanced at the narrow mattress. At the way the springs creaked when she sat.
“No,” she said. “Hallie’s, yes. She loves it. Mine…” She shrugged. “I can…upgrade.”
“I’ll have a new one delivered,” he said. “Pick it out yourself. I don’t trust my taste in mattresses.”
“Do you trust your taste in anything?” she asked.
“In contracts,” he said. “In ports. In…you.”
Her heart did a weird little flip.
“Flattery won’t carry these boxes,” she said, her voice only mildly shaky.
He smiled. “Then let’s start.”
***
Mrs. Novak stood in the hallway as they carried the first load down.
She watched Liam maneuver a box past her, eyes narrowed.
“So you are the man,” she said.
He paused. “I’m…a man,” he said cautiously.
“You’re *her* man,” she clarified, jerking her chin at Mara. “At least for now.”
His lips twitched. “That’s the plan.”
“You break her,” Mrs. Novak said, “I break you. I’m small, but I bite.”
“I’m beginning to see where Hallie gets it,” he murmured.
Mara elbowed him.
“I’ll…do my best not to deserve biting,” he told Mrs. Novak. “Ma’am.”
She studied him a second longer, then nodded slowly.
“You carry heavy things,” she said. “Good start.”
Hallie danced around them, narrating.
“And this box is my dinosaur puzzle,” she told Liam. “And this is my books. And this is Mom’s secret chocolate.”
“Hallie!” Mara hissed.
Liam tried and failed to smother a laugh. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” he said. “For inventory purposes.”
Hallie tugged his sleeve. “Do you have a room for me?” she demanded. “With a window?”
“I have two rooms for you,” he said. “You can pick.”
Her eyes went huge. “Two?”
“If you want,” he added. “Or you can stay close to your mom. Whatever makes you comfortable.”
She considered this with the seriousness of a general planning a campaign.
“I’ll sleep near Mom,” she said finally. “But I want the big room for my toys.”
“That tracks,” Mara muttered.
***
Liam’s apartment felt different with their things in it.
Less like a showroom. More…lived in.
Hallie’s shoes by the door. Her drawings stuck to the stainless-steel fridge with magnets Liam had never used before. Mara’s mug on the counter, chipped and beloved.
The first night, after they’d put Hallie to bed in the guest room—her bed, wedged snugly against the far wall, stuffed rabbit within reach—they stood in the hallway, suddenly awkward.
“So,” Liam said.
“So,” Mara echoed.
“Your room is here,” he said, gesturing to the guest suite across from Hallie’s. “With its own bathroom. Closet. Window that doesn’t leak.”
She smiled faintly. “Luxury.”
“And mine is…” He nodded down the hall. “There. If you…need anything.”
His voice dropped on the last words.
She swallowed.
“I’ll be okay,” she said. “We’ve slept in worse places.”
“I know,” he said. “That doesn’t mean you have to anymore.”
Silence pulsed.
“Goodnight, Liam,” she said.
“Goodnight, Mara,” he said.
She turned to go.
“Mara,” he said softly.
She looked back.
“This is…your home now too,” he said. “Not just my…space you’re borrowing. If there’s anything you want to change, or move, or throw out—”
“I’m not throwing out your furniture,” she said, half-laughing.
“Throw out the glass coffee table,” he said. “I’ve hated that thing for years.”
She blinked. “Then why—?”
“Because my father picked it,” he said. “And for a long time, I thought keeping his things was the same as honoring him.”
“And now?” she asked gently.
“Now I’m realizing…my life can look different,” he said. “And that doesn’t erase him.”
Her chest ached.
“We’ll start with a new table, then,” she said. “One that doesn’t try to kill your toes when you walk past.”
He smiled, quick and real.
“Deal,” he said.
***
Her first night in his apartment, Mara didn’t sleep much.
Not because the bed was uncomfortable—on the contrary, it was like lying on a supportive cloud—but because her brain wouldn’t shut up.
Hallie’s soft breathing came through the baby monitor on the nightstand (Hallie insisted she didn’t need it; Mara’s anxiety insisted otherwise).
In her mind, everything replayed.
The clinic. The numbers. Liam saying, *My daughter*.
The way he’d looked at Hallie outside the preschool, something almost reverent in his eyes.
She rolled onto her side, staring at the red digits of the clock.
1:13 a.m.
She threw off the covers.
Barefoot, in an oversized sleep shirt and shorts, she slipped into the hallway.
The apartment was quiet. Dark, except for the faint glow from the city through the windows.
She padded toward the kitchen, craving water.
Liam sat at the island, a glass in front of him, laptop open and dark beside him, posture hunched.
He looked up as she entered.
“Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s your kitchen too,” he said. “You don’t need permission to get water.”
She hesitated.
“Couldn’t sleep?” she asked.
He huffed. “Understatement.”
She filled a glass at the sink.
“You?” he asked.
She shook her head, taking a sip. “Too many…new sounds,” she said. “And thoughts.”
“Regrets?” he asked quietly.
She looked at him.
“No,” she said slowly. “Not yet. Just…fear. And…hope. It’s a lot.”
He nodded. “It is.”
She slid onto the stool across from him.
He watched her for a second.
“Talk to me,” he said. “What’s the loudest thing in your head right now?”
She considered.
“That I’m…falling,” she said, the word ripped from somewhere raw. “And I don’t know if there’s a net. Or if you’re…part of the fall. Or the landing.”
His eyes darkened.
“I feel the same,” he admitted. “And I’m not used to that.”
“Feeling?” she asked.
“Falling,” he said. “I’ve kept everything…tight. Controlled. For so long. This…” He gestured between them. “This is new.”
“Do you like it?” she asked.
He didn’t answer immediately.
“I like you,” he said finally. “A lot.”
Heat crawled up her neck.
“That’s dangerous,” she said.
“I know,” he said. “For both of us.”
Silence stretched, charged.
“I keep thinking,” she blurted, “I should have done this five years ago. Told you. Found you. Given you the chance to be there from the start.”
“I should have found you,” he said. “Tracked you down. Forced my way past Liana’s gate.”
“You didn’t know,” she said.
“Neither did you,” he replied. “We both did the best we could with what we had. It wasn’t enough. Now we can…do better.”
She studied his face in the low light.
“You really want to be a dad,” she said softly. “Don’t you.”
The barest flicker of vulnerability crossed his features.
“Yes,” he said. “I do. God help me.”
She smiled, a little broken.
“She’s going to eat you alive,” she warned.
“I hope so,” he said.
Something in her chest loosened.
On impulse, she reached across the island, laying her hand on his.
His skin was warm. Rougher than she’d expected.
His fingers curled around hers, slow.
“This is insane,” she whispered.
“Yes,” he said. “It is.”
He squeezed her hand.
“And yet,” he added, “here we are.”
***