Page 113 of Knot So Sweet
The next hour is a blur of unpacking and rearranging. Garrick immediately tries to reorganize my books by some system that makes sense only to him. Liam keeps finding places for my stuff. My toothbrush in the bathroom, my shampoo in the shower, my coffee mug in the cabinet next to theirs.
Small things. Everyday things. But each one feels like a tiny claim, a little piece of permanence.
"Where do you want your writing desk?" Xaden asks, gesturing to the corner of the main room that gets the best light.
"I don't have a writing desk."
"You do now." He pulls up something on his phone, showing me a beautiful wooden desk with drawers and built-in outlets. "Ordered it last week. Should arrive tomorrow."
"You ordered me furniture?"
"You're a writer. Writers need desks." He says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "Plus you've been working on the couch hunched over your laptop. Your back must be killing you."
It is. Has been for months. But I never said anything because complaining about minor discomforts felt ungrateful when I had a roof over my head.
"Thank you," I manage, my voice rough.
By the time everything's unpacked, it's late afternoon. Golden light streams through the windows, illuminating dust motes and making everything look soft and warm.
I stand in the middle of the common room, looking around. My books on their shelves. My laptop charging on the coffee table. My sweater thrown over the back of the couch. Small pieces of me scattered throughout, mixing with them until it's not their space or my space, but ours.
"What do you think?" Liam asks, coming to stand beside me.
"I think..." I take a breath. "I think this is the first time in my life I've felt like I belong somewhere."
His arm comes around my shoulders, pulling me against his side. "You do belong here. Always have. We were just waiting for you to believe it."
Garrick appears with mugs of tea, passing them around. "Dinner's in an hour. I'm making your favorite."
"You don't know what my favorite is."
"Chicken parmesan with garlic bread and that Caesar salad you always order extra dressing for." He grins. "I pay attention."
They all do. That's what keeps surprising me. They notice what I like, what I need, what makes me happy. And they remember. Not because they're trying to control me, but because they care.
"Pack dinner," Xaden announces. "Our first official one with Violet living here. Should we make it fancy? Light candles? Pretend we have class?"
"I vote for eating in our underwear," I suggest. "Really set the tone for our relationship."
Garrick raises an eyebrow. "You're serious?"
"Completely. We just bonded. I think we're past formal dinners."
"I like how you think," Garrick says. "But Liam will have opinions about proper dining etiquette."
"I will not," Liam protests. "I'm perfectly capable of eating without pants."
"Prove it," I challenge.
Twenty minutes later, we're sitting at the dining table in various states of undress. Me in an oversized sweater and underwear, Garrick in boxer briefs, Liam in boxers looking vaguely scandalized at himself, and Xaden completely comfortable in his skin. The chicken parmesan smells incredible, and the whole situation feels absurd and perfect.
"To pack," Xaden says, raising his glass of wine.
"To new beginnings," Liam adds.
"To Violet finally admitting she wants to stay," Garrick says with a grin.
"To all of you being ridiculous," I say, clinking my glass against theirs. "And to me being ridiculous enough to love it."
