Chapter 82

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Moving in with Harry proved to be amazing. The benefits completely outweighed any of the tiniest bit of uncertainty she had originally felt. Maddie loved waking to him every day. She loved being there at the end of the day to greet him. She loved the way her stuff looked next to his stuff; the way he cleared space for her in every corner of his home. There were adjustments that were made; negotiations that were held over tea. But the two of them meshed well; their lives intertwined well.

For a moment, for about a week, she found herself wishing she could be a housewife; wishing she could stay home and bake and cook and put on some lovely ensemble to greet him; something that would surprise him, inspire him to drop his case and take her in the entry way, forgo dinner and make use of the kitchen counter, or the fluffy rug in front of the fireplace.

Yes. She could get used to this.

A week had passed, a week of adjustments and settling. The first day Harry had asked Bernard to stay away, allowing Maddie to have the entire home to herself. She finished unpacking, she moved some things around and then...she explored. By the time Harry made it home that night, she knew where every last kitchen utensil was and she had managed to cook up a decent pot of pasta and sauce. Though the second he saw her in the black and red lingerie she had chosen to surprise him with, the pasta and the sauce were forgotten.

It had taken six days. Six days passed before Maddie was finished with her mapping of Harry's place. Six days before she had figured out where things were, how things worked—six days of following Bernard around the kitchen with a smile, six days of trying to get him to call her Maddie, to tell her the secret to his pizza. Six days before she felt more at home than a guest at Harry's home.

It was the night of Day Six when Maddie finally spoke the words that would pull her right out of this state of lounge she had been in since she moved.

"I'm ready." Her voice was loud and clear and cut right into Harry's thoughts. She was standing in the doorway to the living room, leaning against the frame and had been watching him for at least a minute before she spoke.

"Sorry?" Harry looked up from the paper he was reading. His legs were stretched across the couch, his bare feet propped up while he sorted through a stack of folders and papers he had pulled from his briefcase that sat on the coffee table next to him.

"I'm ready," she repeated with a wide smile.

"Oh-kay," he shifted on the couch, adjusting the stack of folders. "I'm not exactly sure what you're talking about but if you give me two minutes to finish this one briefing...I could be ready too."

"No," she shook her head with a laugh, pushing away from the frame and stepping into the room. "Not for that."

"For what?" Harry moved his feet from the end of the couch and waved his hand, inviting her over.

"I'm ready to come out of hiding," she took a seat, pulling his feet into her lap. "I need my day to be about more than harassing Bernard..."

"But you were having so much fun," he cut in with a smirk.

"Yes, but he's never going to cave," she sighed dramatically, her hands rubbing his feet; moving of their own volition. "He's never going to call me Maddie and he's never going to teach me how to make that pizza."

"No, he's not," Harry shook his head, moving his files to the table so that he could settle into the couch, so that he could enjoy what Maddie was doing to his feet.

"My housewife days are over. It was fun while it lasted," Maddie grinned as Harry chuckled. "I think I'm ready for that meeting."

"With Thomas?" Harry's eyebrows lifted.

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