“Seph, you need to bend your legs! Like you would for a deadlift, not with a straight back!”

I sipped my coffee and watched the carnage before me, feeling surprisingly calm as members of Max’s family, plus a couple of friends and colleagues, carried in various pieces of furniture.

“I still think that would look better in the snug,” I heard Callum say, pointing to a chaise longue that had been recently reupholstered and was now sitting prettily in the kitchen-slash-diner. “I’d sit on that while reading a thriller and drinking a martini.”

“Good to know what circles you move in, brother,” Jackson said, frowning. He spent a lot of time frowning, unless Vanessa was there, in which case he didn’t frown at all because all he could focus on was her.

“Can someone come help with this desk?” Max yelled down the hallway. I watched as Seph and Callum immediately looked down towards him, their bodies half in and half out as if working out exactly how they could get out of lifting something else.

“For fuck’s sake, get your asses out there and help!” Claire said, her baby girl strapped to her chest in a sling that I would need a video guide to use. “There are five more big pieces of furniture to come in, plus two more beds and a pool table. Find your man cards and help. Pussies.”

“Vic, where do you want these going?” Killian walked down the hallway with a chair in each hand.

“The study,” I said, pointing him in the right direction. “There a beer in there as well.”

He smiled and nodded, heading away from the rabble that Seph and Callum were causing over the desk. I was pretty sure he’d enjoy the beer before coming back out again.

Killian and the rest of them hadn’t stopped, emptying delivery vans and the two vans we’d hired to clear Max’s apartment and my storage unit. We’d started at seven am and we’re still going strong twelve hours later, but the end was in sight. Marie had commandeered the kitchen, Claire had taken over the role of sergeant major and Max had very quietly and efficiently project managed, knowing where things were meant to go and checking with me when he thought they wouldn’t work. I’d sorted it out room by room with Ava and Payton, unpacking as quickly as we could, unwrapping pictures and antiques and we had some semblance of a home, just one where every door was open as things were still being brought in.

“Bring that bed in here!” I heard Grant holler, followed by a curse from Eli, one of Max’s partners at Callaghan Green.

“Can we make sure that gets put together tonight?” Seph’s voice called. “I’m sleeping there.”

Max’s eye caught mine as he walked down the stairs and he shook his head. We’d officially adopted Seph. He was moving in temporarily, and yes, the agreement had named a date when he would be moving out. I didn’t mind; he reminded me of Tigger from Winnie the Pooh: continually bouncing round annoying everyone but completely harmless. He’d asked us two days after we’d told everyone, a genuine and heartfelt request that had Max walking off to the bottom of the garden and me mixing a margarita.

We’d said yes and considered it good practise for when we had children of our own and from our conversations, it wouldn’t be that long if all went well. A year of working at King’s and we’d see what happened, although I would be surprised if we lasted that long waiting to try.

“Mattress coming up, Dad. Get ready at the top,” Max yelled and I went back to unpacking the box of antiquities to go into what had been deemed the snug and would, in fact, be my office.

Three hours later and people had either left or were dozing in a chair with a glass of wine or a beer. Ava was deep in conversation with Eli about property, wine clearly fuelling their ideas. Seph had found an old guitar and was in the midst of a fantasy where he could actually play. Marie and Grant had found a loveseat to collapse into, one that desperately needed reupholstering and was on the list for the following week and Max was lounging on a sofa, acting as my cushion as I lay back into him with a very large glass of malbec, my eyelids drooping.

“It’s been a productive day,” I said, watching Callum talking to Payton, both of them animated and impassioned about whatever they were discussing. “We just need tomorrow to be as smooth.”

“It’ll be easier,” he said. “Jackson and my dad will make sure everything’s assembled and where it should be; Marie will sort the kitchen out and Claire and Vanessa will do the bedrooms. All you’ll need to do is over see things.” He started to move, knocking me away from him. “There’s something to see in the summerhouse.”

I followed him across the garden where I’d played as a child, a new tyre swing now hanging from the large oak tree that Seph and Ava had hung that evening. He flicked the lights on in the summer house and everything was as it should be, a tidy area with a log burner and a faux sheepskin rug with two comfy weather-worn leather chairs and a small table. Nothing as it hadn’t been a couple of days ago.

I stifled a yawn and sat down on the rug. I’d quite happily sleep here tonight as long as Max was with me. In fact, we’d get more privacy out here, unless Seph discovered where we were.

“Vic,” he said, sitting opposite me.

“Maxwell,” I muttered tiredly. It had been a long and exhausting day, but not one I would change for the world. I’d spent it with the people I was coming to regards as family, helping me to settle in to our new place and caring about us.

“Will you marry me?”

I sat bolt upright, suddenly very awake and my heart pounding as if I was about to skydive from a great height. “Sorry?” I said, unsure as to whether I’d heard right.

“Will you marry me?”

He was nervous, his face pale and he kept biting his lips together. One hand held a diamond solitaire, the other was stroking his beard.

I blinked. My words had evaporated as I stared at the ring.

“Victoria?”

I blinked again, my mouth not working.

“I love you. I want a family with you. I saw how long it took Van and Jackson to sort a wedding so I want to give you time to plan the wedding you want…”

“What about the wedding you want?”

“I just want to be married to you. We can get married in Vegas if that’s what you’d like. As long as you end up being my wife,” he said, half way between nervous and considered.

“Yes.”

“What?”

“Yes, I’ll marry you.”

“Are you sure? You don’t need longer to think about it?”

“I’m sure that I’ll marry you. And no, I don’t need longer to think about it. Decision made.” I’d known he would ask; we’d kind of mentioned it but I’d thought it would’ve been in a few months, not just two weeks after I’d confirmed I’d be staying in London.

“Good. Shall we go in and tell everyone?”

I smiled and reached for him, letting him pull me into his arms, the place where I felt most at home. “Tomorrow,” I said. “Why don’t we stay here a little while and enjoy the quiet?”

“Good plan.”

So we did, and we’d continue, making the most of the compromise every single day.

The End