And slowly but surely, I’ve moved my things over to this house. Winter is funny. Now and then, she empties a drawer and leaves it open. A silent invite to move more of my stuff. It’s like she still can’t bring herself to believe that this whole thing with us is real, that this is something bigger. Though I can tell she does by the way she clings to me all night. The way she casually swings by the gym while I’m working just to say hi—and glare at my clients.
