Page 47 of Making Me Sane (Sanity 2)

“Maybe.” Trace looks around. “Where are we going to start? If we can get it all done, then you could start staying over tonight. This is really the only full day we’ll have to do it since your lease is up during the week.”

I think about it, cataloging in my mind all that needs to be packed. “You could start in the kitchen and I can do the living room and bathroom. Then we can both work through my room. We should be able to finish today as long as we stay focused.”

So after we eat, we get to work. I turn the TV to a music channel and leave it playing softly in the background. Trace and I work our way around my apartment until we get to my bedroom. It’s not too messy, which will help things. I start packing my clothes while Trace packs little things sitting around. We’ve been quietly packing. I’ve been gaining more and more anxiety about this, but I’ve done well with tamping it down and keeping it under control. I wonder if Trace is nervous too. Having some nerves is normal; so, correction: I wonder if he’s having anxiety over it.

“Um, Brittany?”

I turn to see Trace holding up my vibrator which is in a clear pouch; it seems he had moved on to my nightstand. A blush scorches my face. “What about it?” I force myself to ask. “I was boyfriendless for a long time.”

“I was, uh, just wondering if you wanted it to go in here with everything else.”

“Yeah. It’ll go into the next nightstand.” I turn back to my dresser. “Going to have to keep it nearby and handy.” Actually, I haven’t used it in a long time. Not since way before I started dating Quinn. Something about depression takes away your sex drive if you’re alone, go figure. I could count on one hand how many times it’s been used in the last year.

Trace doesn’t say anything. I wish he would. It’s left this awkward air hanging around us. I can’t keep my sigh to myself as I move to my disaster of a closet. I shouldn’t even be nervous. It’s no

t like I’m actually moving in. I’m crashing at his place until I can find another apartment. But what is to be expected during this time?

Does he want any rent money? Does he want help with the groceries? Cleaning the house? Should I stay out of his way and in my room for the most part? Is he going to give me a key that I’ll have to turn right around and return it? Is there a deadline on how long I can stay? I have a feeling we’ll just figure this stuff out as we go.

Though it shouldn’t be surprising based on how little I actually own, we finish before the night is through. We load up our vehicles and start transporting my stuff. The guest bedroom is quickly filled with bins. At least I’ll be able to unpack about half of it, which are necessities. I’ll drop off my key tomorrow.

“Want me to help you unpack?” Trace asks from the doorway of the guest bedroom.

“No, that’s okay. If I do it all, I’ll know where everything is.”

“All right. I’ll cook dinner then.”

He leaves me to my own devices, and I get started. By the time I’m finished, so is he.

“You’ve been quiet all day,” he says once we’re seated at the table.

I shrug. “Haven’t had anything to say. You’ve been quiet, too,” I point out.

“You seemed to be lost in your head.”

“Noticed that, huh?”

“All I did was pay attention.”

I roll my eyes; why, I don’t know. “Can we just eat, lay in the recliner, and then call it a night?”

“Of course.”

And let me just say, I didn’t realize how much I missed lying in this chair with him. Even Trace releases a little happy sigh. This is probably the first time we’re lying here and it’s not because we’ve had shit days or feel crummy. Trace is trailing his knuckles up and down my back. He’ll lull me to sleep here shortly if he keeps on.

His voice rumbles, rousing me from my light doze. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Thanks for helping me out.”

He hums in response. Moments like these are what keeps me calm. What makes me trust him again. It’s just so easy when it’s like this. Same thing when he set it up for us to have a massage and then finish date night here outside under the stars. It’s these perfect moments. These are the moments I need to cling to during the times of panic and hesitation. I need to remind myself that I do want this to work. Trace wants that too, and he’s said he’s not going anywhere.

“Let’s go to bed.”

Based on his voice and how his hand had all but stopped moving along my back, I know he was dozing off, too. He tells Lily to go out and starts his nightly routine of locking the doors and turning off the lights as I head to the guest bedroom. It feels weird to get ready for bed in here and in the guest bathroom. When Lily trots by, she stops and sits at the threshold of the guest bedroom. She seems confused as to why I’m in here and not in there with Trace. I hear his footsteps, so I hurry to turn off the light and climb into bed.

I want to avoid the awkward goodnight. And it will be awkward. I’ve never slept in here. I need to find a place soon, so we can get back to normal. I stop breathing when the footsteps stop because they didn’t pass by my room.

“Go on,” I hear him say quietly and two seconds later, Lily jumps onto my bed. That’s when I hear him walking away to his room. My eyes flutter closed, and soon, I’m asleep.

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