Page 59 of Love, Take Two

"Definitely tomorrow," she agrees, and then we're both too distracted to worry about professional protocols.

Some partnerships require very careful boundary management. Others just require trusting that you're building something worth the complications.

22

VADA

Moving day turns out to be exactly as chaotic as I expected, but somehow also the most fun I've had in months. Emory's stuff arrives from LA storage looking like the belongings of someone who's been living out of suitcases for years—a lot of camera equipment, surprisingly few clothes, and approximately zero furniture.

"This is everything?" I ask, looking at the small pile of boxes in our new living room.

"Travel light, live free," Emory says with a sheepish grin. "Though I'm starting to think maybe I took that philosophy a little too far."

"It's fine," I say, though privately I'm wondering how we're going to make this space feel like both of ours when ninety percent of everything is mine. "We can go shopping this weekend."

"I love that you said 'we,'" Maya observes from where she's directing the placement of my couch. "Very domestic. Very couple-y."

"Maya," I warn, but I'm smiling. Having her here to help with the move makes everything feel more official somehow.

"What? I'm just saying, watching you two coordinate this move has been better entertainment than Netflix. The way you automatically divided up tasks, how Emory knew exactly where you'd want the kitchen stuff—it's like you've been living together for years."

She's not wrong. This morning's move has been surprisingly smooth, with Emory and me falling into natural rhythms about who handles what. He's taken charge of all the technical setup—internet, cable, sound system—while I've focused on making the space functional for daily life.

"Speaking of coordination," Emory says, appearing with his laptop, "we should probably set up our office space. I've got a call with the Cabo venue tomorrow, and we'll need to present options to Sarah and Mike by Friday."

"Already?" I ask, feeling that familiar flutter of anxiety mixed with excitement. Our first client is moving fast, which is good for business but nerve-wracking for someone who likes to plan everything months in advance.

"Wedding planning waits for no one," Maya says sagely. "Even destination weddings in paradise."

Two hours later, we've created what might be the most functional home office I've ever seen. Emory's photography equipment is organized along one wall, my event planning materials are systematically arranged on the other, and we've set up a shared workspace in the middle that actually looks professional.

"This could work," I say, testing out the lighting from different angles.

"This will definitely work," Emory corrects, adjusting his camera setup for optimal video calls. "Look at this natural light, the way the space flows—clients are going to be impressed before we even start talking."

"I hate that you're right," I say, but I'm smiling as I say it.

"Why do you hate it?"

"Because it means Maya was right about us being good at this domestic partnership thing, and I'll never hear the end of it."

"I can hear you," Maya calls from the kitchen, where she's allegedly organizing our dishes but probably eavesdropping. "And I'm always right about these things."

The next few days fall into a routine that feels both new and completely natural. We wake up together, work together, handle client calls and vendor coordination like we've been business partners for years instead of weeks. The Cabo project is developing beautifully—we've secured an incredible venue, found vendors who understand our vision, and created a timeline that should give Sarah and Mike exactly the celebration they're dreaming of.

"I have an idea," Emory says Thursday morning, looking up from his laptop where he's been editing location scouting videos. "What if we document our own planning process? Show potential clients what it actually looks like to work with us?"

"Behind-the-scenes content?" I ask, considering the idea. "That could be really smart. People love seeing the process, not just the final result."

"Exactly. Plus, it showcases both our skill sets—your organizational systems, my visual storytelling, how we problem-solve together."

"And it gives us content to post while we're building the business," I add, my marketing brain catching up to the possibilities. "Smart thinking, Wise."

"I have my moments," he says with a grin that makes me want to abandon work entirely and drag him back to bed.

Which, honestly, has been a recurring problem this week. Turns out working from home with someone you're completely attracted to requires more self-control than I anticipated.

"Focus, King," I tell myself, turning back to my vendor spreadsheet.

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