Natalie and Matthew, no kids. · Y/n story by @bumbelbee

The elevator hummed softly as it ascended, its polished brass and mirrored walls reflecting a couple who looked like they belonged on the cover of a lifestyle magazine.

Natalie Remington

The movers said they’d be here by three. she glanced up That gives us two hours to argue over where the couch goes.

Matthew Whitmore

a slow smile curving his lips I thought we settled that. The couch goes where the light hits it best.

Natalie Remington

The light hits everywhere in a penthouse, darling. That’s the point.

The elevator chimed, and the doors slid open with a whisper of luxury. Their new home stretched before them—a sprawling expanse of floor-to-ceiling windows, gleaming hardwood, and a skyline that made Manhattan look like a postcard.

Natalie Remington

stepping inside, her heels clicking against the floor I still can’t believe this is ours.

Matthew Whitmore

coming up behind her, his hands finding her waist I can. I’ve been imagining you in this space since the day we found it.

Natalie Remington

leaning back into him, a soft laugh escaping You’ve been imagining me in a lot of spaces.

Matthew Whitmore

his voice dropping, warm and teasing Guilty as charged.

For a moment, they stood there, the city sprawling below them, the chaos of moving boxes forgotten. Then Natalie turned in his arms, her eyes bright with something that was equal parts exhaustion and exhilaration.

Natalie Remington

Two hours. she tilted her head up Think we can actually get this place looking like a home before the movers arrive?

Matthew Whitmore

his thumb tracing the curve of her jaw I think we can try.