He hooks his finger through the drawer pull and slowly drags it open, twisting his mouth to the side as though he knows he’s doing something he shouldn’t. Automatically I reach out and press it back closed with my fingertips.
“Okay, okay,” he chuckles. “But if I get permission, I am stealing a pair of her panties!”
The back door is wider than the front door, with stairs that are a straight shot down to the driveway. This is the easiest way to get everything out. With Stephan on one end and me on the other, we get her bed and dresser loaded up in the pickup right away. The rug is rolled into the space between them, then the bookcase and a comfortable-looking slipper chair.
We are only going about a half a mile, so there’s no point in packing everything too thoroughly. I’m sure we can just drive carefully enough to not dump everything out.
Shortly, it seems like the apartment is about halfway empty. Olivia stands on a metal stool in the kitchen, emptying the cabinet over the stove. She is wearing sweatpants cut off at the knee. Her plump little calves flex every time she reaches up to grab another dish from the cabinet.
“Looks like you are about done here?” I observe.
She nods and looks around the apartment, knuckling her hip.
“Yeah, it’s amazing. I don’t think moving has ever been this easy!”
“Hopefully we won’t make a habit of it,” I wink.
“Well, as long as you guys don’t evict me too…” She smiles wryly.
“Wouldn’t dream of it. Besides, I can always just retire and maybe hang out with Bubba.”
She opens her mouth as if to say something, then closes it immediately. Her cheeks go pink.
“Olivia? What is that about?”
She leans over and waves me closer, as though she wants to tell me a secret.
“Bubba bought a place! In Florida! That’s where he was!”
“What are you talking about? How do you know this?”
“He just told Betty!” Olivia informs me.
“Huh,” I answer, not knowing what to say.
When I turn around, I see Bubba standing at the front of the apartment, next to the window. The curtain rods are down and another woman smiles up at him, twisting the curtain fabric between her fingers and laughing. If I didn’t know better, I would definitely think that the old fire chief was flirting.
“Well, would you look at that!”
Olivia climbs down from the stepstool, clapping her hands together.
“That’s the last of it!” she announces.
“Seriously? Just like that?”
“I like to travel light,” she shrugs.
With everything in the truck, Olivia takes another quick look around to make sure she didn’t miss anything, and maybe to say goodbye. She and her friend, Betty, stand by the front door, hugging and rocking back and forth for a long time. Me and the guys just wait in the truck, not wanting to interfere.
When she finally comes down the stairs, brushing tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand, we all wait breathlessly to see how she will feel. No one would blame her if she was in a state. Angry, confused, remorseful.
But I’m happy to see she has made up her mind. She hoists herself into the back seat and gives us each a decisive grin.
“Okay! Let’s do the rest of it!”
Back at the firehouse, unloading is even easier. We haul everything up to the second-floor bedroom that was supposed to be for the other fire crew that never showed up. Nobody has been using that space, so it just makes sense. It won’t even be in anybody’s way. Maybe when the chief finally moves to Florida, we could even put her in there.
In her little tennis shoes and cut-off sweatpants, Olivia is just adorable. After all this exertion, she even smells a little musty, and her hair is sticking to the edges of her forehead. With the last box shoved into the corner of the storeroom, she stands back and surveys everything.
“Goodbye, old life,” she says under her breath, giving it a casual salute with her fingers to her eyebrow.
“Well, it’s not like it’s gone,” Trigger adds softly as he comes up next to her.
She slips her hand into his and gives it a squeeze, leaning her forehead against his arm as she pouts thoughtfully at the stacks of her stuff, like Jenga blocks dumped out of their protective housing.
“It’s just stuff, I guess,” she finally sighs. “Just stuff. It’s not really what’s important, I guess.”
“Are you going to be okay?” Trigger asks.
She gazes up at him, reaching up to press her palm against his rugged jawline.
“I’m going to be okay,” she asserts. “I’m always okay. And I think it’s really sweet of you to ask me.”
“Oh my God, you guys are giving me a toothache!” Stephan complains. “Who’s ready for beer?”
“I am!”
“Me too!” Olivia giggles.
As we head back to the kitchen, I realize this is it. This is going to be what life is like. The four of us, figuring out how to get along. Figuring out how to be in the same place. As long as we are all on the same page, I think it is going to be okay.