Page 43 of Only and Forever

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Page 43 of Only and Forever

I sense a shift in her, that arctic anger thawing. Warmth hums through me, and I reach for the dress, drifting my finger down its satin smoothness. “I can see why. You have very pretty clothes.”

She sniffs as she stares down at the dress. “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry I laughed at your wardrobe’s... volume. I swear Iwasn’t making fun of you. I was just a little surprised, mostly delighted by it. But I shouldn’t have laughed. I apologize.”

Tallulah peers up at me beneath those thick, dark lashes, the eyeliner she always wears winged out from her eyes, accentuating them. “That’s okay. I’m sorry I laughed at you yesterday. It was the same thing... I wasn’t laughing at you. I was just... entertained by it, the dramatic—”

“Irony,” I finish for her.

“Yeah.” A soft half smile lifts her mouth, not nearly as full as the one she let loose yesterday, but it’s a triumph all the same, the best kind of triumph—not a victoryoverher, butwithher. This moment feels like a little win for both of us.

Tallulah clears her throat, and I blink, realizing I was staring at her. She’s flushed, tiny ice-blue hairs stuck to her cheeks, the nape of her neck. A lone tendril clings to her clavicle, drawing my gaze to the dewy skin revealed by her scoop-neck blue tank top. Heat rushes through me. I glance away and clear my throat.

It’s warm.I’mwarm. Tallulah looks warm, too, judging by her flush. It’s hard work, unpacking, and the sun’s beating down on the house. I should turn on the AC so it’s more comfortable for her. Tallulah is obviously used to nice things, and I’m sure that includes a living space that isn’t hot as hell.

Pushing off the threshold, I take a step back. “I’m gonna turn on the AC, then whip up some lunch for us. How’s that sound?”

Tallulah opens her mouth, then closes it, like she’s debating with herself how to answer me. Finally, she says, “That... would be great. Thanks.”

“Sure thing, Tallulahloo.”

Just as I’m starting down the hall toward the main room, the doorbell for my house rings. I frown. I’m not expecting anyone.

“Oh!” Tallulah calls. “That’s the movers with my shoes. Hopeyou have some more closets tucked in this place, because I’m definitely going to need them!”

I do not, in fact, have more closets for Tallulah’s shoes, and when we realized we needed some way of storing them, there was only one solution: IKEA. Besides the A-frame and a well-stocked romance-only bookstore, IKEA is my happiest happy place. It is not, apparently, Tallulah’s.

“What’s with the face?” I ask her.

Tallulah frowns up at me. “This joint smells like mass-produced meatballs and hoodwinkery.”

I snort. “Hoodwinkery?”

“They hoodwink you. They show all their furniture assembled, then make you go buy it in pieces and put it together.”

“Well, Lula, some peopleenjoyputting things together.”

“Well, Viggo, this gal enjoys paying people to put things together.”

I come to a dead stop. Tallulah turns and peers my way, fake potted succulent plant in hand. “Tallulah, we arenotpaying someone to assemble your Ställ shoe cabinet.”

“You’re right.” She slips the fake succulent into her IKEA bag and tucks a loose piece of blue hair back into her bun. “We’re paying them to assemble my Ställ shoe cabinets. I need at least three.”

I choke on my disbelief as Tallulah spins on her heel and marches off. I jog and catch up to her in three strides. “Lu, I’m half-Swedish. I cannotallow for a single piece of IKEA furniture in my home to be assembled by some... some stranger, when these two hands are perfectly fit, when my genetics aredesignedto do this.”

She rolls her eyes. “That’s absurd.”

“It is not. I will not back down on this.” I reach inside her bag,pulling out the fake succulent, and set it on a stand of bulk-packaged votive candles. “And I will not back down on this either: no fake plants.”

Tallulah gasps. “Hey! That’s formyroom. It’s the only kind of plant I can keep alive!”

“Lula, I got some tough news for you, but you deserve to know the truth—it was never alive to begin with.”

She growls in frustration, then lunges for the fake plant, shoving it in her bag again. “But I want plants in my room!”

I yank the fake plant out of her bag again and slam it back down on the candle stand. “Then we’ll get you some!”




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