Page 117 of Fight For Me

“I can’t believe we’re really doing this,” she whispers, sounding giddy.

I bring my chin down to rest on top of her head, feeling just as giddy as my girl. “Second thoughts?”

“God, no.”

We held off on the apartment hunt for as long as we could. I felt like Levi might have an easier time with this whole situation if she stayed home with her parents for a while before we took the next step. Everything is on hold regarding the show’s possible second season, though Alex already told Everly and Fox that if they agree to it, she won’t be living on site.

So Alex has been staying with her parents. Living in my old bedroom wasn’t an option for me, and the short-term rental I moved to in the meantime was cramped and not in the best neighborhood for walking George.

Last week, Alex decided she’d had enough waiting—and enough visiting the shoebox where I was laying my head at night. Levi has barely spoken to her since she announced we were going to start looking for a place. Together.

“You want your mom to see it before we decide for sure?” I ask.

Karen has been much more chill about everything compared to her husband. She did come over to my parents’ the day after Alex and I got back together to have a chat with me. It involved a lot of threats about what she would do to me if I ever hurt her kid again. I am not ashamed to say I was sweating by the end of it. Karen Fraser is not someone you want to cross.

After she got the dire warnings out of the way, she relaxed and told me all of Alex’s favorite things to eat, insisting the best way to take care of her daughter was to feed her well. I took notes.

“I don’t feel like we need another opinion,” Alex says. “Do you?”

“Hmm. What about George’s opinion?”

“That’s the only one that matters.” She looks down at the dog. “What do you think, Georgie? You like this place?”

He wags his tail, looking up at her adoringly, the same way he always does. Smart dog.

Alex turns in my arms again, a grin spreading across her face. “Do you really like it? Because I really like it.”

The apartment could be a crumbling mess and I’d still agree to it if it made her smile like that. “I really, really like it.”

Her wide eyes get a little wet. “We’re seriously doing this? We’re going to live together?”

I kiss her softly. Sometimes I still can’t believe I get to do that whenever I want. “We are.”

She takes a deep breath. “Then I think this is it.”

I pick her and give her a little spin, which makes George bark and try to jump up on us. “He’s excited about the place too,” I say as I set her down.

Alex looks around the empty room appraisingly. “We’re going to need some furniture.”

“I had an idea about that.” My stomach clenches with nerves. “I should probably go up to Seattle and pack up my things.”

It’s something I’ve been putting off even thinking about. I am completely confident in my decision to move to LA. I was actually surprised by how little emotion I felt when I contacted the symphony director to let her know I wouldn’t be coming back after my medical leave. I’m looking forward to trying something new in my career. Once my hand is fully healed, I’m going to concentrate on being a session musician for a while. I’ll step in and record music with artists who need a piano player for a specific track or album. It’s something I’ve done before, and enjoyed. Between my friends in the industry and my dad’s contacts, I’m sure I’ll be plenty busy. It sounds like a lot less pressure than immediately jumping back into highly technical classical performances. And I can always audition for local orchestras if I find myself missing Liszt and Rachmaninoff.

So my hesitation to go to Seattle to tie up loose ends has nothing to do with my career or even nostalgia for my old apartment. It has everything to do with the other task I know needs to get done while I’m there.

“My mom and I need to pack up my grandparent’s house,” I say, and Alex’s face softens with understanding.

“That will be hard.”

“Yeah.”

She smiles softly. “But it might be good, too, you know? To have the chance to do that with your mom. I would imagine there are a lot of memories for both of you in that house.”

My chest aches just thinking about it, but she’s right. The ache isn’t entirely bad.

“I was thinking maybe you could come with us?” I ask, searching her brown eyes. “We could go through the things at my apartment, too, and decide if there’s anything we want to have shipped down here for the new place.” I swallow, feeling strangely vulnerable. “And I could show you the house I grew up in.”

“Of course I’ll come,” she says without hesitation. “If you don’t think your mom will mind.”