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with an elegant post at each corner. The posts came up to just above waist height. I imagined myself lying on the bed spread-eagled; Will would be able to tie me to each post with little difficulty.
    “You like this one, sir?” a salesgirl asked, apparently unwilling to let me browse in peace. She was the third person to approach me since I’d walked in.
    I nodded and cocked my head to the side. “Yeah. I think so. Do you have a delivery service?”
    “Yes. We’ve got free delivery all this weekend too, if you’re willing to put an order in now.”
    “Is it in stock?”
    She gave me something of a predatory grin. “It is, yes.”
    “Excellent.”
    I wondered how much she was going to get in commission as I was led away to sign the paperwork and hand over Will’s credit card. My name was on it too, so technically it was also my card, but he paid the bill at the end of the month.
    Feeling rather satisfied, I stopped by the hardware store to pick up paint before swinging by a Starbucks, lamenting that the coffee here wasn’t as good as back home, and heading back to the house. I had work to do to get it ready for when Will got home.
     
     
    “T HIS IS amazing,” he said as he walked through the house to the kitchen at the back. “Really, Jesse. I can’t believe how much you’ve done in such a short amount of time.”
    “I’ve had help.”
    “Still.”
    “Come see the bedroom.”
    I’d worked like a madman to get the few pieces I’d bought in place for when he got home. We had stripped the walls and painted them, cleaned up as much as possible, and set the bed in the middle of the room. We didn’t have curtains yet. That was my plan for the following week—curtains and floors. For now, I’d stripped out the disgusting old carpet, revealing the surprisingly nice, original floorboards underneath. It would take some scrubbing and sanding, but after the dirty work was done I was convinced it would look good.
    “You’ve got your priorities sorted, that’s for sure,” he said, teasing me, and tossed his duffel on the floor at the end of the bed. “It looks great in here. I love the color.”
    “Really? I wasn’t sure.”
    “Really.”
    I’d chosen a paint called “Parchment,” a sort of old-looking off-white to go with the navy-blue bed linens. It was simple and classic, the style I knew Will liked. It reflected our home back in Seattle—not a match, but almost.
    “Are we staying here tonight?” Will asked as he reached for my wrist.
    “If you want to. Yeah.”
    “I want to.”
    I let myself be drawn into his arms, not for anything sexual but to be held close for a moment. By the way he pressed his cheek to my head, I thought he wanted the same thing I did.
    Not wanting to talk to anyone, I fired off a quick text to Jennifer to let her know we wouldn’t be coming home for the night and I’d stop by the next day at some point. Will had already offered to help with some of the decorating over the weekend, and we were going to drive into the city to look in some of the bigger furniture stores.
    The house didn’t have a TV yet, or anything other than an ancient stove to cook on, or any furniture other than the bed. That pretty much dictated we were going out for dinner and staying somewhere late enough that when we got home, we could go straight to bed. I saw spending money in our future. Spending a lot of money.
    Since Will had the car, we could go to the next town over where no one knew either of us and I could hide from the well-wishers who wanted to offer their condolences. I was hiding. It took the incredibly strong man standing next to me to assure me that was okay.
    We found an Italian restaurant and bought a bottle of wine, sharing a glass each, then stoppering the rest to take home. The restaurant was small, with only a dozen or so tables and a warm, spicy, garlicky smell in the air that made me hungry the moment we walked in. It all blended together—the food, the wine, sitting