As it turned out, it actually was pretty much just like that. The particulars of Elizabeth's lease weren't complicated, and by the time her contact was up the following month, she and Henry had talked it over more than a handful of times. In the end, they were more sure than ever that they really wanted to live together.
So they started by moving a few things here and there; Henry took a load of bags of Elizabeth's things to donate and dropped them off at the Salvation Army one Saturday afternoon, and she moved some of her more fragile things ahead of time. On the day that she was set to relinquish they keys to her old apartment, the remainder of her things were neatly packed away by the time Henry arrived at eight a.m to help her move everything.
He thought she looked breathtakingly beautiful in her worn blue jeans and white tee shirt. Her blonde hair was shining in the summer sun where it bounced in her ponytail, and she was radiant when she smiled at him. Henry smiled back, broad and enthusiastic, and couldn't help thinking he had gotten far luckier than he deserved to be moving this unbelievably beautiful girl in with him.
"Hi," Elizabeth said, her voice bright and easy.
"Hey," Henry answered. "You ready to do this?"
Elizabeth grinned, and leaned in to kiss him lightly.
"Ready," she said confidently, and there was absolutely no room left for doubt.
Henry smiled, and kissed her again.
"Let's go."
It didn't take that long; Elizabeth was, for all intents and purposes, the most pragmatic person he knew. She had several boxes of books, which were the main thing they needed to move, and two suitcases for her clothes. There remained only a handful of miscellaneous items that were mixed in together, and a single box of keepsakes. She had given up her own coffee maker and most of the few kitchen items she owned, given that Henry's kitchen was considerably more well-equipped anyway. And that was basically the extent of it.
By lunchtime, the keys had been handed over, the apartment was closed up, and all of Elizabeth's boxes were stacked neatly in Henry's living room.
"Well," he said with a little sigh, leaning against the kitchen counter as he looked over at her, "all done, I think."
Elizabeth smiled as she closed the distance between them, and took his hand from where she stood directly in front of him.
"All done," she echoed.
Henry smiled, brighter still.
"Welcome home," he said. Elizabeth smiled, too; she couldn't help it. It was the kind of thing that could have sounded so cheesy, but from Henry it somehow sounded just right.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"No second thoughts, I hope?" he asked, absently brushing a stand of her hair off of her shoulder. She shook her head and grinned at him.
"Not a one," she answered, and the joy on his face spoke for both of them.
Henry leaned in and kissed her, and it occurred to him then that this was their first kiss in what was now their apartment. Something about it filled his chest, the thought that he would be sharing this space with her from then on, that maybe when he left this apartment he would be leaving it with Elizabeth, that maybe the next move would be to somewhere they had chosen together.
He thought back to when he first signed his lease on this apartment, and how much his life had changed since then. Elizabeth had entered a diner, sat at his table, and changed everything.
"What?" she asked, bringing him back to the moment and pulling his gaze to meet hers. He smiled, shaking his head a little bit.
"I was just thinking that I really feel like we're…starting something."
Elizabeth's smile grew more tender at his words, and she leaned in, pressing her lips to his again.
"I'm really glad to be starting something with you," she whispered, and Henry thought that maybe this was the start of the rest of his life.
Henry was nervous.
He wasn't quite sure why he was nervous, and wouldn't have been able to articulate it if asked, but as he waited for Elizabeth to arrive home to their still-new little apartment, he was feeling it nonetheless. He looked around at the countertop, checking it over again to make sure he had everything. Elizabeth knew that they would be having dinner when she got home, but what she didn't know yet was that he had plans to teach her to make scrambled eggs. Elizabeth was a total disaster in the kitchen, and he would be lying if he said he didn't worry about it sometimes. His solution had seemed like a good one right up until this moment. Now, he was unsure. What if she was offended? What if she thought he was making fun of her?
Henry didn't have time to ponder that further, however, because the jingling of Elizaeth's keys sounded out through the room and then Elizabeth was letting herself through the door, smiling at him over her shoulder. She had just been out running a couple of errands, so she was dressed in her ratty boyfriend jeans and a UVA sweatshirt with the sleeves pushed up to her elbows. Her hair was tied up in a simple braid and she wore dirty white tennis shoes on her feet, but the sight of her still took his breath away.
"Hi," he said.
"Hey," she answered as he stepped aside to let her in. He shut the door behind her and then turned to her, hoping that he hadn't just made a horrible mistake.
"Eggs?" Elizabeth asked, looking quizzically over her shoulder at her boyfriend, who nodded nervously.
"Yeah," he answered. "Um, I was thinking that I could show you how to make them."
Elizabeth raised her eyebrows at him.
"Why?" she asked. "Because I'm a terrible cook?"
"No!" Henry answered quickly, but backtracked at the look on her face. "Yes. I mean, that's not why I want to show you. It's just- I don't-"
Watching him struggle to find the right words, Elizabeth couldn't help but laugh.
"Relax, Henry," she said, hanging up her bag as she spoke. "I'm just messing with you."
He hesitated.
"You're not offended?" he asked. "Because I was worried you might be offended." Elizabeth laughed.
"No," she answered. "I really am a terrible cook."
"Well, for what it's worth," Henry began, "that really isn't the main reason I want to show you."
"So, what is?" she asked curiously.
"I guess it kind of does tie back to you being a terrible cook," Henry admitted, and she laughed, "but really it's just that I worry about you. That you're not eating enough or eating healthy foods because you don't know how to make them for yourself and...I don't know, it's probably stupid."
Elizabeth smiled slightly at him, and reached for the hem of her sweatshirt to pull it over her head in an attempt to hide the blush that had crept into her cheeks. She was not at all used to having someone care for her the way that Henry did, and while it had been unsettling at first, she found that now she actually enjoyed it. She liked that he cared enough about her to think about things like that.
"It's not stupid," she said from behind her sweatshirt while Henry smiled at the sight of her tangled up in it. She finally managed to free herself and smiled at him.
"I like learning new things," she said with a shrug, "but fair warning, this is probably going to be a total disaster."
"No," Henry chuckled. "Trust me, it's really easy. Come here."
She joined him at the stove and he glanced over at her.
"Alright, so we're going to start with scrambling the eggs," he instructed as he handed her an egg. "Just crack it on the side of the bowl."
"Me?" she asked. Henry laughed.
"Yes," he answered. "It's not hard, go ahead," he encouraged her. She followed his movements and cracked the egg, ending up with just a little piece of shell in the bowl.
"That can't be good," she remarked as she peered into the bowl. Henry stifled a laugh.
"It's fine," he said. "You can just carefully pull it out."
She did, and the triumphant look on her face made Henry smile.
"Alright, so we're just going to add some salt and pepper," he continued, and she watched him sprinkle it on the eggs. When he glanced over at her, she looked confused.
"What?" he asked.
"How do you know how much to add?" she asked, looking between him and the eggs. Henry thought about that. He couldn't recall ever being told how much to add.
"Uh, well...it's a matter of taste," he said. She grinned.
"You don't remember, do you?" she asked, and he laughed.
"Honestly, no," he admitted. "But I also really don't think it matters. As long as you don't go overboard, you should be fine."
She nodded and he handed her a whisk, which she took but did not move toward the bowl.
"You're going to use that to stir them," he said. "That's the scrambling part of scrambled eggs."
"Whenever I see people do this, they go really fast," she mused, looking at the eggs in the bowl.
"Yeah," Henry said as he reached into the fridge for some butter to put in the pan. "That's how you do it. Just hold the bowl steady and whisk it around as quickly as you can."
She held the whisk perpendicular to the eggs and began to stir, and Henry shook his head.
"No, here, let me show you," he said, standing behind her. "You just tilt it like this, and- yeah, with your wrist."
"All in the wrist," Elizabeth muttered. The look of concentration on her face as she whisked the eggs vigorously was the most adorable thing Henry thought he'd ever seen.
"Perfect," he said, but when Elizabeth glanced up, she found that he was looking at her and not the eggs. The pesky blush returned to her cheeks and she looked down, clearing her throat.
"Alright, so now that this pan is hot, we're just going to put some butter in, about that much," he instructed, showing her as he performed the action. Elizabeth watched as the butter sizzled in the pan. "You don't want it too hot though," he cautioned, pointing to the dial on the stove. "About right there is good."
She nodded her head.
"Why do you put butter in it?" she asked.
"Partially for flavor, but mostly because it keeps the eggs from sticking to the pan," Henry explained. He glanced down at the bowl to ensure that the eggs were sufficiently whisked.
"See how you can't tell the difference between the whites and the yolks now?" he asked, and her gaze followed his; she nodded.
"That's how you know you've got them scrambled," he said.
"Makes sense," Elizabeth siad. She looked cautiously at the stove and then back to Henry. "Do we put them in now?" she asked.
"Yep," he confirmed. He watched her and when she didn't move, he laughed. "Go ahead," he encouraged. "Just pour it all into the pan." She nodded, as if steeling herself, and lifted the bowl to pour the eggs in. The sizzling was muffled and Elizabeth stepped back.
"There you go," Henry said with a smile as she stepped forward again.
"Now what?" she asked nervously. Henry smiled and handed her a plastic spatula.
"Now, just keep them moving a bit, and you'll be good to go," he said, and watched as she poked at the eggs.
"Like this," he said, showing her what he meant with his hand over hers on the handle of the spatula. "Oh, and always use a plastic spatula on a pan like this. Metal ones will damage it."
Elizabeth nodded seriously, and did as he'd asked.
"See how they're all getting dry?" Henry asked a few moments later.
"Yeah, they look like scrambled eggs," she said and he laughed.
"Exactly," he said. "Here."
He took the pan and emptied the eggs onto the plate he'd set aside earlier. Elizabeth watched him and then he smiled at her.
"And now you've made scrambled eggs," he told her. She smiled proudly as he grabbed a fork and speared some egg on it before offering it to her. She blew on the egg and opened her mouth, taking the egg from the fork as he looked on.
"Good?" he asked.
"Actually, yeah," she said, sounding incredibly surprised. Henry laughed as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, reaching out with his other hand to turn the burner off.
"That's the most important part," he said. She rolled her eyes.
"Believe it or not," she said. "I got that part."
Henry chuckled.
"You never know," he remarked, and Elizabeth took the fork from him to get another bite of the eggs.
"We're going to need more than this for dinner," she said in a matter-of-fact sort of way.
"Oh yeah," Henry agreed with a grin. "I vote greasy Chinese."
"I second that vote," Elizabeth said around a mouthful of egg. Henry smiled as he reached for the takeout menu, thinking to himself that he just might be the luckiest guy on the planet.