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We made it to the outskirts of Nashville, to the closest truck rental place. I paid for a full day, and I drove Macy’s car back to Singer’s Ridge while she drove the truck. It took us another half hour to reach the storage unit where I had stashed my stuff. As we had expected, Mr. Bradley was more than happy to help us empty out my locker. There was a respectable amount of furniture, but not enough that the three of us couldn’t handle it.
Afterward, the owner of the storage company offered us lemonade, which we accepted gratefully. We sat in the air-conditioned office for a moment, chatting about hair. The owner was a client, and I had scheduled her several times for trims and colorings.
Having quenched our thirst, we said goodbye to the first two people I had seen upon arriving to town and headed up to the mountains. Pulling off Deer Tail Road, we took a short trip up the driveway and parked. Mike was already there, his truck giving him away. He came onto the porch after hearing the unmistakable sound of the moving truck. I had an urge to run to him, like some lovesick little girl romping through a field of daisies, but I stifled it. He was my new roommate, not my knight in shining armor.
Mike came down the porch steps to greet me, just as another, older gentleman appeared at the door. Macy emerged from the U-Haul, slamming the door. Mike kissed me on the lips, a sweet, chaste kiss the kind I had seen my parents share when I was a kid.
“Welcome home,” Mike whispered, picking up my hand. He led me forward, up the steps to greet his companion. “This is my dad. Dad, this is Tammy.”
“Pleased to meet you—” I began, before Mike’s dad wrapped me in a hug so large it startled me. I laughed, wondering why I was surprised that Mike’s dad would be so affectionate. Wasn’t his son?
“Mike’s told me so much about you,” his dad said when he set me down.
“Oh?” I looked at Mike. Had we really passed into the “meet the parents” phase of our relationship? It seemed so.
“Macy Ford.” Macy held her hand out for a shake.
Mike’s dad took it, pumping enthusiastically. “Tammy’s cousin?”
“That’s right,” Macy said. “Can you guys help us move the furniture? I have to be home in time for lunch.”
I checked my phone. It was near 11:30. “I think we can do it.” I glanced at Mike.
“Of course,” Mike said. “You should go home. We’ll take it from here.”
“Are you sure?” Macy hesitated.
I gave her a kiss on the cheek and a firm hug. “I’m fine. Go home and take care of your kids.”
“I’ll come get you anytime,” she whispered.
“That won’t be necessary,” I assured her. “Mike’s a great guy.”
Macy finally gave up her anxiety over me and climbed into her car. She waved at us all as she backed down the driveway. I stood between my new roommate and his dad and watched her go, feeling not a bit remorseful. The upset stomach had ceased to bother me, and I was ready to unpack. It took Mike and his dad almost no time to move my furniture into the spare bedroom.
While they were doing that, I checked out Mike’s room. He had moved in already. That famous bed that I knew so well fit snugly into the master bedroom, leaving just enough space for Mike’s desk. There was a closet door on one wall and a landscape painting resting on the floor. I stopped to study it, not remembering ever seeing it before. A ray of sunlight broke from snowcapped mountain peaks in the distance, the vista sweeping forward to a patch of sunflowers in the foreground. Another win for Mike; he had an eye for beauty.
I checked out the bathroom and found half of the medicine cabinet full of male toiletry items. Shaving cream, deodorant, and cologne shared one shelf while a pack of razors and a nail clipper rested above them. Somehow the supplies seemed more intimate than Dillon’s had. I picked up the shaving cream and sniffed it. It smelled like Mike.
“What are you doing?” he surprised me.
“Oh.” I dropped the can into the sink. “Nothing. Just seeing where I’m gonna store my stuff.”
He came up behind me and circled his arms around mine. With one foot, he flicked the door shut, giving us privacy for the first time that day. I smiled at our reflection in the mirror, a man and a woman locked in a loving embrace. He kissed my ear, sending ripples of heat flooding down my neck.
A knock on the door interrupted us, and Mike withdrew reluctantly. He opened the door, grinning like a schoolboy caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
“Where do you want this lamp?” Mike’s dad held up a floor lamp, its cord dangling to the ground.
I pushed past Mike, out into the hallway, my face flushed with embarrassment. “It can go in the living room.” I accepted it from the older man, walking it to the front of the house.
Mike ducked out from behind his dad, wearing a wolfish grin. We completed the unpacking together. We had amassed enough furniture to populate the living room, enough kitchen appliances for a modest cook, and enough soap and bodywash to fill the shower caddy. Mike’s dad and I sank gratefully onto the couch while Mike worked to connect the television to the dish.
“How ’bout I buy dinner?” Mike’s dad asked. “I think pizza is traditional for a new home.”
I looked at Mike. I hadn’t had that many new homes, but pizza did sound good. Mike nodded his agreement. Mr. Newbury got up and left the living room to place a phone call. The television flickered, and then the warm-up screen appeared, announcing that the dish was updating. I gave him a virtual high five from across the room.
Mike laughed. “Wore you out, did we?”
