Page 102 of Power Play
She’s on her break, perched on the edge of the treatment room couch with a protein bar in one hand and her phone in the other. I crash through the door like a hurricane with overfilled tote bags, plonk myself down dramatically, and say, “Emergency. Domestic. Drama.”
Mia doesn’t even blink. “Did Murphy try to cook again?”
“No, worse. He found a place with natural light andsensible storage. I think I’m dying.”
Mia raises an eyebrow. “You’re moving in together?”
“Technically, we’vefounda place. Haven’t signed yet. But the fridge has a wine rack and I’m pretty sure the bathroom was designed by someone who understands the female experience.”
She smiles slowly, knowingly. “So you love it.”
“I want to marry it. I want to throw it a party and writesonnets about its laundry cupboard. It has a second bedroom, Mia. Like a real grown-up. Like someone who pays council tax on time.”
Mia leans back, crossing her arms. “So what’s the problem?”
I flop onto my side, one hand pressed to my forehead resembling a Victorian widow. “I don’t know! It’s… real. Suddenly everything’s real. Murphy and I have been this sort of chaotic, beautiful, low-commitment circus. Now we’re talking cohabiting. Joint cleaning schedules. Possibly plants that don’t die within a week.”
“You’re scared,” Mia says gently.
“I’mterrified.” I sit up, legs folded beneath me. “He’s sonormalabout it. Like, of course we’ll move in together. Of course we’ll split the bills. Of course we’ll argue over what colour the tea towels should be. Like it’s not even athing.”
Mia watches me for a moment. “Because for him, it’s not. Because he’s all in.”
“Yeah, but what if I drop the ball? What if I can’t hack it? What if he realises living with me is just chaos and crumbs and weird late-night online purchases?”
Mia snorts. “He already knows that. He loves that.”
I glance sideways at her. “Do you think it’s too fast?”
“Doyouthink it’s too fast?”
I groan. “Don’t do the therapist thing. Just tell me what to do.”
“I think you’re overthinking. Again. As usual.” Mia leans forward. “But I also think you wouldn’t have said yes unless part of you was already sure.”
I pause. “I didn’t say yes. Not out loud. I sort of nodded into his chest while he was hugging me.”
Mia’s lips twitch. “That counts.”
“Does it?”
“Definitely.”
We sit in silence for a moment while I unwrap a granola bar from my bag and eat it like someone who has never used their molars before.
“You know,” I say after a second, “I’ve lived alone for so long I forgot how to share space. I forgot what it’s like to fall asleep with someone beside you. To argue over stupid things like who gets the last spring roll.”
Mia sighs. “You’re doing that thing again.”
“What thing?”
“Where you pretend you’re not completely smitten because it terrifies you.”
I blink. “I don’t do that.”
She gives me a look. A long, slow, unimpressed look.
“Okay, fine. Maybe I do. But it’s self-preservation. He leaves socks in weird places. He eats cereal as though he’s being chased. He thinksDie Hardis a Christmas film.”
