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It was easier to push his fear of becoming a zombie again away than Major had anticipated. Max Rager was happy with Drake Holloway crossed off the list so he had a few days' worth of breathing room, and Rita had been kicked out of Liv's so he didn't have to worry about being stalked when he went over there—less of a concern than it used to be, but their lives were thoroughly enough intertwined that it was definitely a consideration. Meanwhile, Peyton and Liv had decided to be roommates again, to everyone's relief, so Major and Ravi had been elected to provide the muscle.

Okay, Major was providing the muscle. Ravi was mostly providing the complaints. He had found a dozen different excuses to avoid carrying the actual furniture, so once that was all loaded into the truck, Major made sure the boxes that remained to be moved were all the books. Law books. Very heavy. Watching his roommate try to heft two at a time and not look like he was dying in an attempt to impress Peyton with his musculature was one of the most entertaining things Major had seen in days.

Liv was still in her robe when they started hauling boxes into the apartment—Major and Peyton had wanted to get an early start, and Ravi was putty in Peyton's hands, as usual.

"Hey, zombie muscles. Think we can get a hand here, or are you busy doing your nails?"

Studying her hands, Liv frowned. "I would hate to chip my fresh manicure."

"Oh, no, you don't. I took that from Peyton, but I know you better than that," Major told her. "Unless … you're not on some fancy brain that requires immaculate nails, are you?"

"No. Just coming off retired accountant."

"Damn. You mean I could have had you do my taxes? If only I'd known."

"There's a reason I kept that one to myself," Ravi said. "Come on, let's get some more boxes. Madame Peyton, will you be joining us?"

"I kind of want to start getting settled …"

"If I'm helping, you're helping," Liv said. "Let me get dressed."

And then it was … awesome. The four of them, unloading the truck, getting Peyton's furniture set up, helping her unpack, Major and Ravi staying for Chinese takeout. If things were different … if Liv wasn't a zombie … if they could be together …

But things weren't different, and if Liv wasn't a zombie they wouldn't have met Ravi in the first place, so Major made a conscious effort to take the situation for what it was worth.

Peyton opened the refrigerator, studying the contents. "Major, you want a beer?"

"It's not Yosemite Sam's Flamin' Hot Lager, is it?"

"No. And ew. Does Liv really drink that? I may have to reconsider my life choices."

"No, don't listen to him, Peyton."

"Why did you move in here?" Ravi asked her. "I thought your new place was all fancy and special, so much better than living on our couch."

"Well, it was. Not that the couch wasn't great. Super comfy." Peyton grabbed two beers and closed the refrigerator door. "I really thought the new place was going to work out, but there was this loud tenant living above me who my landlord refused to evict. Plus, I'm a lawyer, okay. If I can't get out of a one-page lease, I should be disbarred."

She dropped onto the couch next to Liv. Major couldn't help smiling, seeing them there. How many times had he seen the two of them side by side on a couch with beers in their hands? Too many to count. They were good for each other—always had been.

Liv glanced at Ravi, one eyebrow lifted quizzically. "What is happening over there?"

Major realized that his roommate was trying to drink his beer without lifting the bottle, which looked … odd. And a little sad.

"I literally can't lift my arms." He turned and frowned at Major. "Why did I get all the boxes of books?"

"Because you made me carry all the furniture all by myself."

Ravi accepted that as the logic it was.

Peyton smiled at them both. "Aw, this is fun. Please try and rent the apartment across the hall."

"So we can be like the friends from Friends," Liv agreed.

"Yes!"

"Fantastic idea." Ravi gestured at Peyton with his beer bottle. "Peyton is Monica-esque." Looking at Liv, he added, "You're clearly a Rachel." When she gave him a questioning look, he explained, "Type A, relationship drama."

"Ooo."

Major couldn't help appreciating the dig. He didn't blame her for the most recent break-up … but it still stung a little, nevertheless. "Do you remember the episode where Ross and Rachel break up because she's a zombie who wants to solve murder cases?"

Clearly Liv was stung a little, too, judging by the good-humored venom in the look she gave him.

He pointed his beer bottle at her. "That was so us."

The rest of the evening was interrupted by Peyton getting a phone call from one of her sources, who was then murdered in mid-call. Everyone else bundled up to go see about the body and start working on the case, while Major volunteered to clean up the food and lock up the apartment before he left. He wondered if, when they changed the locks, he would still automatically be given a key. He wanted to be part of Liv's life—had to be, if he was going to keep her safe—but she had moved on, found someone else. Maybe he should be thinking about that, too. Of course, dating someone new would require lies and sneaking around to cover up his side gig, and it would be hard to explain to any woman why he spent so much time in morgues and funeral homes …

He should just give up and go goth, Major reflected. That was the only kind of woman who could put up with his current lifestyle. He imagined himself in black eyeliner … and decided against it.