She looked… fresh. Not like someone in trouble. Not like someone who had slept on a friend’s couch or cried herself to sleep. She looked like she’d just stepped off a plane headed for a beach, or out of a boutique where people offered her sparkling water while she shopped.
She grinned at me with that familiar, practiced smile. The one she used when she wanted something and had already decided she was getting it.
“Surprise,” she said brightly. “I’ll be living here now.”
For a second I didn’t respond. My brain stalled on the sentence, trying to make it sensible. Living here. Now. Like it was a fun update. Like she’d brought a houseplant and a bottle of wine instead of three suitcases and a declaration.
“Vanessa,” I managed, voice rough with sleep. “What are you doing here?”
She shrugged, already shifting her grip on one suitcase handle. “Moving in.”
