Once the New Year was rung in, Harry made his move. His house was officially listed on January 3. Both his realtor and I had reminded him that it would likely take time to sell since the market had been sluggish for the past several years.

Imagine everyone's surprise when it sold on January 6.

I was at work when Harry called me in an excited panic. "Shit, Regan! I don't know what to do! Never in a million years did I think it would sell like that. Holy shit!" It sounded funny for him to be all in a tizzy, especially with his proper British brogue.

"That's amazing, Harry!" I congratulated him. "Come to my place after work and we'll talk about it, okay?"

He laughed so loudly I almost dropped the phone. "Where else would I go? I practically live there!"

"Exactly!" I bantered, hoping he would catch my hint, but he didn't. The moment he said his house sold, I had a crystal clear revelation. Not an impulsive decision, but a realization that this would work out perfectly should he agree with my plan.

"Hey you," I said to my handsome Brit when we both arrived "home" that evening. I kissed him deeply, ready to let it take us to places that I had only dreamed about. New Year's Eve had led us to places my brother certainly didn't know about but luckily he and Ilana took a cab home. With everyone else passed out on my furniture, Harry and I had drawn the curtain to my bedroom and made sweet, passionate love in the wee hours of the New Year.

"Hey, sweetie," he said in a low growl. "Stop being so sexy. We have to talk."

"Fine," I said, playing grumpy. "What is there to talk about?"

"I have to find a place to live," he whined.

"Harry," I whined back. "Do I even have to say it?"

"Yes, apparently," he answered, shaking his head.

"Harry, you already live here. You don't have to find another place to live. Stay with me." I said, trying to steady my breathing.

He paused and my heart sunk a little. "Regan, I can't. It's one thing to stay over most nights. Okay, every night. But sweetie, moving in is a big step. Are you sure you want me to live here?"

"I'm sure, Harry. I want you!" I declared. "Here, I mean. Here." I giggled.

"No, my love, I heard you loud and clear. You. Want. Me."

"Harry-"

He interrupted me with a kiss. A deep, earth-moving, soul-stirring kiss. I let him kiss me for ages, until neither of us could breathe properly. Finally, he moved away enough to say, "I guess we'd better talk through some details then. It doesn't have to be long-term, but at least until I can find a place-"

"First, I'm ordering a pizza. Sound good to you?" I interrupted because I was starving and I knew this wasn't a conversation I wanted to have on an empty stomach.

"Perfect." Once the pie was on its way, Harry and I sat down with my laptop. I pulled up my bills spreadsheet so he could get a look at it.

"I'm not going to pressure you into anything, Harry, so if you want to stay just until you find your own place, that's up to you," I told him. "But I would ask you why? You practically live here and it's never been a problem."

"I do like it here," he said with an endearing smirk. "I just don't want you to feel pressured, like you have to take me in."

"For the record, I do not feel pressured," I said, holding my hand up as if I was taking an oath. "If I didn't want to, I wouldn't have said anything. I love you, Harry and I love being with you. So I promise you I don't feel coerced in any way. Do you feel pressured?"

"No, not at all," he shook his head. I could see the excited gleam in his eye when he said, "Okay, where do I sign?"

"Hmm, I guess we'll have to talk to the landlord about signing the lease, but here are the numbers." I pointed to my spreadsheet. "Rent, water and heat are pretty straightforward. We can figure out how we want to do food. And we'll have to talk to the landlord about having two cars in the lot."

Harry turned to me and cracked a knowing smile. "You've been thinking about this for longer than just today, haven't you?"

"Maybe," I answered. "I started thinking when you first mentioned selling your house but when you told me today, it just clicked in my head that this was supposed to happen. I couldn't imagine it any other way.

"Neither could I, to be honest," he said. "I love it here because I love you."

The pizza came and we munched while trying to figure out the best way to broach the more awkward part of the conversation that had to be had. Finally, I blurted out, "What if things don't work out?"

It seemed like I caught him off guard but he answered quickly and calmly. "I hope it won't come to that, but if it does, I suppose we need a plan." I nodded emphatically, knowing he was thinking exactly what I was. "Well, I would first reassure you that I'm not planning to walk away because I feel very strongly that you and I were meant to be." I nodded again, agreeing wholeheartedly. "But if we find ourselves with irreconcilable differences, then of course I would be the one to leave. That seems obvious. You were here first."

It hurt to think about us parting ways, but again, it was a necessary discussion. "I love this place and yes, I was here first so it makes sense. I would just never want you to be out of a place to live, not when my parents are so close."

"Regan, sweetie, you have a heart of gold, but no, I wouldn't let you give this place up for me. I doubt I would be out on the street - although it wouldn't be the first time you thought I was homeless - I could certainly stay with Gordon or someone else until I found my own place." He took both of my hands since neither of us was still occupied with pizza. "That being said, I have no plans whatsoever for things to go badly for us. I love you and I will stay as long as you'll have me."

"I love you, too," I assured him. "After all we've been through, I think it would take a lot to break us."

Harry moved most of his personal things into my place that weekend with Gordon's help. The closing on his house wouldn't take place for another 4-6 weeks, so he had time to put things into storage or get rid of them before the new owners took possession. But there was really no  need for him to keep living there.

As the pile of boxes and other items grew, I offered to unpack some of Harry's clothes into the dresser he had already moved into my room. I sat on my bed - now our  bed - pulling t-shirts and shorts out of the first box. They smelled like him and I smiled to think of his long, lean legs on display in the sun during the warm months.

We had a quick lunch with Gordon and then Harry and I returned to work, unpacking the rest of his things. I stopped to admire how his suits looked next to my dresses in the closet, and I appreciated the way his blankets and towels coordinated with mine. I felt silly for noticing all these little things but I had a stupid grin on my face during the whole process.

"What are you smiling at?" Harry asked at one point.

"This," I answered. "You. Here." I twisted my smile into a shy smirk. "We live together!"

"That we do," he said happily. "And you're so darn cute sitting there blushing like that."

I blushed even harder at his compliment. "Well, I guess I'd better get back to work and stop looking so cute, or we'll never get these boxes all unpacked." I got off the bed to go and retrieve another box from the foyer. I struggled to lift it, so Harry picked it up and brought it to my room.

"Why don't you work on that one and I'll go and see if there are any others that need to come into the bedroom."

I did as he suggested, opening the cardboard flaps. These were mostly jeans and t-shirts; sheesh, the guy had a lot of t-shirts. But towards the bottom of the box, I found something hard. I pulled it out into the light and found that it was some kind of jewelry box made of an exotic wood, teak wood maybe? I ran my hand over the carved top and realized the design was a flower with broad leaves.

I didn't even notice Harry coming back into the room. "What are you doing with that?" He snapped and snatched it out of my hands.

"Harry, I was just unpacking and that was in the bottom of this box." I couldn't understand his sharp tone when I hadn't done anything wrong.

"I'm sorry," he breathed. "I didn't mean to sound so angry. I just forgot, uh, I thought this was in a different box. I'm sorry I over-reacted."

"It's all right," I said, standing up to meet his gaze. I kissed him and said, "Do you mind if I ask what kind of flower that is, carved into the top?"

"It's a lotus flower," he answered simply.

A sharp, sudden flash of heat traveled down my back and my knees went weak. I plopped back onto the bed, fighting back a wave of nausea. The box, a "lotus box" about the size of a cigar box, not a puzzle box as I had learned when I searched the term on the internet. But that was precisely what the email in the dream had said. I shook my head, feeling foggy and confused, and just slightly panicked.

"Sweetie, are you all right?" Harry asked, kneeling down in front of me. He set the box carefully on the bed next to me. "What happened?"

"I...I don't know," I lied. "I just felt nauseous all of a sudden. I don't think I ate enough today. We've been so busy."

"True," he said. "Stay there, I'll get you some water."

I couldn't have moved if I wanted to. My eyes were glued to the box and even if I had wanted to look inside, I couldn't have because it was locked. But I wouldn't snoop into something personal of his anyway. However, that didn't stop my curiosity from running wild.

"Here you go," Harry said, startling me again. He felt my forehead. "You feel kind of clammy. Why don't you lie down?"

I drank the water and moved up to the head of the bed. Harry turned off the light and climbed in next to me, stroking my back as I rolled over and relaxed. "What do you keep in it?" I asked of the box.

His answer was immediate and very casual. "Nothing special, just sentimental things like ticket stubs and pressed flowers. I know, not the usual kinds of things a guy keeps, but just a few very special things that remind me of Cathryn."

My heart rate was slowing and the feeling of panic was passing. I wondered if Harry would think I was crazy if I told him about the dream I'd had in which Cathryn told me about the box. Then I remembered something else. "Was the box hers?"

"It was ours," he said. "We vacationed in Thailand with her parents one year and I bought it for souvenirs."

"Mm, that's nice," I said, drifting off into an exhausted sleep before I even had the chance to fill my hungry stomach.

* * * * *

Any thoughts??? :D