Page 53 of Love, Take Two

VADA

The sound of Emory making coffee in my kitchen at six AM should not be as sexy as it is, but here we are. I lie in bed listening to him move around my space like he belongs there, and honestly, it's doing things to my heart that I wasn't prepared for.

"Morning, beautiful," he says, appearing in the doorway with two mugs and hair that's doing that thing where it sticks up in the back. "Sleep okay?"

"Better than okay," I say, accepting the coffee and trying not to stare at his chest. The man sleeps shirtless, which is both a blessing and a curse for my concentration levels.

"Good, because Maya texted at five-thirty," he says, settling beside me with his own mug. "Apparently she's found three apartments for us to look at today, and she's very excited about something called 'exposed brick and natural light.'"

"She texted you directly?" I ask, surprised.

"Yeah, she got my number yesterday," Emory grins. "I think she's adopted me as her new project. Should I be worried?"

"Terrified," I say with a laugh. "Maya in full planning mode is a force of nature."

The truth is, having Maya get excited about Emory moving here makes this whole thing feel more real. She's protective of me in the best way, and if she's already texting him apartment listings, it means she approves. Which shouldn't matter as much as it does, but it totally does.

"So, apartment hunting," Emory says, stretching in a way that makes me momentarily forget what we're talking about. "Any preferences? Deal breakers?"

"Good kitchen, decent space for a home office, somewhere that won't make you feel trapped," I say, then catch myself. "I mean, assuming you want to look for a place together. We don't have to—"

"Vada," he interrupts, setting down his mug to cup my face in his hands. "I want to look for a place together. I want to build something with you. Stop overthinking this."

"I'm not overthinking," I protest weakly.

"You're definitely overthinking," he says, kissing me softly. "Which is one of the things I love about you, but in this case, it's unnecessary. We're doing this."

The certainty in his voice settles something in my chest that I didn't realize was tight. Sometimes I forget that not everything has to be analyzed to death.

Two hours later, we're standing in the first apartment Maya found—a gorgeous two-bedroom in the Pearl District with exposed brick walls, huge windows, and rent that makes my eyes water slightly.

"This is beautiful," I say, running my hand along the brick wall in what would be the living room.

"Very you," Emory agrees, though I catch him glancing at the information sheet Maya's waving around. "The light's incredible."

"And look at this kitchen," Maya says, practically bouncing with excitement. "Island seating, gas range, enough counter space for both of you to cook together. It's perfect for domestic bliss."

"Maya," I warn, but she's clearly just getting started.

"Plus, the office space upstairs would be ideal for content creation," she continues, leading us up a spiral staircase to a loft area that overlooks the main living space. "Natural light, great acoustics, room for all your camera equipment."

Emory stands in the middle of the loft space, turning in a slow circle, and I can see him mentally arranging his setup. "This could actually work really well," he says, and something about the way he's already visualizing it makes my heart skip.

"What do you think?" I ask as we explore the master bedroom, which has windows on two walls and more of that gorgeous exposed brick.

"I think it's perfect," he says honestly. "I also think it's probably way more than I should be spending right now."

There it is—the financial reality that's been lurking under all the romantic planning. Travel blogging might look glamorous on social media, but I know from our conversations that the income can be unpredictable.

"What if we split it proportionally?" I suggest carefully. "Based on income? I've got steady event planning clients, so I can handle a bigger share until your travel business picks up more."

Emory's jaw tightens slightly, and I immediately worry I've said the wrong thing. "I don't want you supporting me, Vada."

"It's not supporting you," I say quickly. "It's investing in us. In what we're building together."

"Still feels weird," he admits, though I can see him considering it.

"Look," Maya interjects with the bluntness that's her trademark, "you guys are planning to work together professionally, right? So think of it as a business investment. Shared office space, shared living space, shared everything. Emory brings travel expertise and content creation skills, Vada brings event planning knowledge and steady income. It's a partnership."

---