“There.” With one swift motion, Lucy got the frame hoisted into the center of the living room wall and pressed the adhesive hangers into place.
Lo dropped back onto her heels, hands braced on her thighs as she looked up at the growing cluster of frames. “Okay,” she said after a second. “I’ll admit it. That actually looks… really good.”
Stepping back, we admired our minimal decorating efforts.
It felt amazing to be here—standing in the middle of my first grown-up apartment. I had never lived alone before, but something about this modest starter place in the middle of a bustling, new-to-me city made me feel like I was on the brink of something big.
Yes, I hadn’t found a job yet.
Yes, I was floundering most days.
But right now? Here—with Lucy, Lo, and Ezra helping me turn this drab space into a home—something felt right. Like my life was about to click into place.
“Are you ladies ready for more?” Ezra’s voice carried in ahead of him as he stepped into the living room from the kitchen, careful but unbothered, like he’d already accepted that navigating around half-unpacked boxes and scattered frames was just part of the process today. His arms were full—frames stacked carefully against his chest, edges of polished wood and glass catching the light as he shifted his grip.
“My entire life,” I murmured, a soft laugh slipping out as I crossed toward him to take a few from the top of the pile.
Lo had insisted on it. Every moment documented. Every memory preserved. Skiing in the Alps. Sunbathing on Elafonissi’s pink sand. Christmas mornings. Graduations.Small, ordinary afternoons that had somehow mattered enough to keep.
“For posterity,” she’d said as she unpacked the boxes earlier, completely unapologetic. “And as a reminder to keep following your dreams.”
Ezra seemed smiled at that now—quiet, familiar, like he’d heard it a hundred times and still let it land the same way. “Your highlight reel is heavier than it looks,” he added, shifting the remaining frames slightly before offering them out.
I took another from him, careful with the corners. “You carried them in.”
“I have a reputation to maintain,” he returned easily, glancing toward Lucy.
She was already kneeling on the rug, sorting frames into loose piles that didn’t seem to follow any real system beyond what made sense to her in the moment.
“That reputation being?” she asked without looking up.
“Capable. Reliable. Strong under pressure,” he listed, ticking each off like it was fact.
Lucy snorted. “You forgot dramatic.”
Ezra’s mouth curved, just slightly. “That one’s genetic.”
I caught the look they shared—quick, familiar, effortless.
Easy.
Something in my chest softened at it before I could stop it.
The way the father-daughter duo interacted made me have the slightest twinge of homesickness for my own dad. Before snapping back into the conversation, I made a mental note to call my old man as soon as my guests left.
Lucy shifted onto her heels, finally glancing up at me. “Unfortunately for him,” she added, gesturing vaguely inEzra’s direction, “I’m his only child, so I get to keep him humble.”
“That’s one way to phrase it,” Ezra said dryly.
“He means I’m a delight,” Lucy clarified, flashing me a grin before turning back to the frames.
We fell into a rhythm after that.
Passing frames. Shifting positions. Stepping back, then forward again. Trying to create something that felt intentional without overthinking it.
Ordered-disorder. It worked.
At some point, a familiar weight pressed lightly against my ankle. I stilled. Then exhaled a sigh of relief.