"Tell me this is all of it, please."

The exhaust on Tyler's face is laughable. I'd been sitting on the cold wooden floor of our new home, a slice of pepperoni pizza in hand while I try to chew through the laugh creeping up inside of me.

"I don't know." I shrug, a smirk eating away at my face. "Were there more boxes in the truck?"

His face pales, lips parting with exasperation as he rolls his head back, letting out some sort of groan.

"Doctor's orders, Ty." I remind him, pointing to the healing hole I now have in my side. "Not allowed to lift anything for 3 months."

He places his big hands on his hips. "It's October."

My eye lights, smiling. "Which means I still have two more weeks of healing."

He shakes his head, walking over to where I sit, his worn tecovas stomping against the wood of our floor. He stands at the edge of where my feet lay in front of me, a look of demand on his face as he motions for me to get up.

Raising an eyebrow at him, I do. And as soon as the flat of my feet touch that floor, his hands find either side of my ribs, thumbs resting just below my breasts. He'd no longer been able to hold me at my waist due to my injury, but now, I think I like this spot better. He does one stroke of his thumb at the skin covering my ribs and I stand up on my tippy toes, my arms wrapping around his neck.

His lips curl into a smile as he looks down at me, looking up at him. "You really gonna make me finish unloading that truck?"

My index finger finds the overgrown hair coating his neck, twirling the brown strand around my finger. "Yes I am."

He reclines his head back in annoyance, which prompts me to flatten my feet back on their heels as I poke my pointed finger into his chest, pushing him back.

"You're the one who asked me to marry you. You're the one who asked me to move in." I remind him, brows raised. "So, yes, you can handle this too."

He works his jaw back and forth, his hands resting in it's natural position—on his hips. "Fine."

I hum, satisfied.

Tyler turns toward the door, grumbling something about the injustice of it all, but I catch the amused glint in his eyes before he heads out. 

There's something oddly comforting about this. The new house. The silence after the storm of moving in. The fact that, despite all the boxes and chaos, it's all starting to feel like ours.

I take a bite of my pepperoni pizza, watching his figure disappear into the driveway.

Even with his pretensive grumpiness, even though he's six foot and all manly muscle, there's a soft fluidity with his movements, like there's a happiness within him that he can't shake, and it's visible even in the way he walks. 

I smile to myself, looking out the window above my head. There's a tree in our backyard—it's big and beautiful with orange and red leaves all over, some even shedding over the dull ground. There are cardinals flying around it, tweeting—singing. It's peaceful. 

I can imagine spending mornings like these looking out this very window and seeing it age throughout the years, maybe even watch it grow with a potential kid or two Tyler and I may have. 

The door slams open, and Tyler is back in a few moments, carrying another box. He lets out a dramatic sigh as he drops it to the floor with a thud. His eyes meet mine again, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You really gonna sit there all day, eating pizza and watching me do all the work?"

I can't help the mischievous grin that pulls at my lips. "I'm supervising, thank you very much. Making sure you don't break anything."

He cocks an eyebrow at me, clearly not buying it. But then, in a move that surprises me, he drops to the floor next to me, pulling his boots off with a grunt.

"Well," he says, stretching out on the floor, "since you're the boss, think you can make this house feel like home? Maybe while I work, you can—"

"I already started," I interrupt, pointing across the room. "I hung a picture." 

There's a wooden frame hung with a photo of me and Tyler from college in it, right in the center of the wall in what will soon be our kitchen. 

He raises an eyebrow, fighting off a laugh. "And I didn't have to lift a single box? How'd that happen?"

He's clearly being sarcastic, but it still makes me smile. I tap the side of my temple. "I'm resourceful."

Tyler shakes his head with a quiet laugh before settling back down. For a moment, neither of us says anything. I glance at him from the corner of my eye, his tired face softened in the dim light of the room.

"Ty," I start, the question bubbling up from somewhere deep inside me, "you reckon we'll be any good at this?" 

He meets my gaze, green eyes flickering with playfulness. "Moving? Well, shit, Texas, I think you'll have to start doin' a hell of a lot more than hanging pictures for you to be any good at it." 

"Ty." I shake my head, snickering before my eyes can clear with genuineness so I can ask him the question again. "Seriously." 

He doesn't answer right away. His gaze shifts to the window, the soft rustling of the wind outside mixing with the silence in the room. "Do you think we'll be any good at this?"

I'm not sure either of us truly know what this if referring to.

I pause, chewing my pizza slowly, giving myself a moment to gather my thoughts. "I don't know," I admit quietly. "That's why I'm asking you."

Tyler doesn't move for a moment, but then he shifts, sitting up and pulling me closer until we're both leaning against the wall, side by side. "We'll be fine," he says with complete conviction. "We've got this. You and me, together. We always have."

My head rests against his shoulder, my ear right against his racing heartbeat. I don't worry that the faster-than-usual palptations is rooted from fear because his heart is always beating hard and fast when I lay on him like this. Maybe even always. 

His strong hand finds the side of my face and I feel him exhale beneath me. The rise and fall of his chest enough to soothe me into complete belief. 

But in case that wasn't enough, he nods. "Just you and me, Texas. I'm not letting you go again." 

That wasn't even a question I thought I had in my mind, but he knew I was wondering anyway. 

God, I love Tyler Owens. 

And he loves me. 

I know because when I look down at the ring on my finger, the diamond smiling back at me reminds me of such.  

The storm is gone, baby. It's all sunshine from here.