“I don’t have much,” I warn him, opening a cabinet and peering inside. “There’s coffee. And… protein bars. Possibly a granola apocalypse in that drawer. You cooked my bacon and remaining eggs yesterday.”
He leans against the counter, still sleepy-eyed and shirtless, and smirks. “What, no gourmet breakfast spread? What kind of hookup is this?”
“The kind where you’re lucky I let you stay the night, Captain.”
He snorts. “Right. So generous.”
I shoot him a look and flick on the coffee pot. “You want cream or sugar?”
“Black. Like my soul.”
I blink at him. “Wow. The closet angst is strong with this one.”
He flips me off, then steals one of my proteinbars from the counter like it’shis. I let him. No point pretending I’d stop him anyway.
“So,” he says between bites, “you always this domestic the morning after?”
I raise a brow. “You always this pretty and annoying before 9 a.m.?”
“Unfortunately, yes. Can’t help my good looks.”
I pour us both coffee and lean against the opposite counter. “Your sisters still alive, or did you finally murder them after high school?”
Todd groans. “Maddie and Kelsey? Yeah. Maddie’s married now—has a kid. Kelsey’s in med school. They aren’t as terrible as they used to be.”
“I still have trauma from those two,” I say, smirking into my mug. “They used to shout your full name across the quad every time they spotted you.”
He winces. “And honk from the car while blastingOne Direction. Just to make sure everyone saw.”
“I remember,” I say, mock-somber. “You once ducked into the janitor’s closet to avoid them. Sophomore year.”
He points at me. “That was a smart move. You don’t know the fear of public sibling shame until your sister shows up in a shirt with a toddler picture of you on it. The one where they just so happened to have played dress-up with me and I was in a Cinderella dress.”
“Okay, that’s aggressive.”
“They printed it on iron-on paper. And made extras for their friends.”
I blink. “Honestly? I respect the dedication.”
He flips me off half-heartedly, but he’s smiling now—and for a second, I see what he must’ve been like back then. Justa kid trying to survive the embarrassment of having two embarrassing sisters for siblings. It’s weirdly endearing.
“And now,” I say, tipping my mug toward him, “you’re shirtless in my kitchen, drinking my coffee, and stealing my protein bars like you own the place. How the mighty have risen.”
Todd grins. “Don’t be jealous of my glow-up.”
He nudges his coffee mug against mine. “What about you? Any hidden siblings I should be worried about showing up in matching T-shirts and embarrassing you?”
“Nope. Only child. Which probably explains a lot.”
“It does, actually,” he says, eyes sparkling. “Clingy. Possessive. Kind of a diva.”
I clutch my chest dramatically. “Excuse you—those are all winning qualities.”
“Oh, I didn’t say they were bad,” Todd says, stepping closer. “Just means I should probably thank your mom for raising you right.”
That makes me smile—like, stupidly wide. “Yeah, she’s the best. Total ride-or-die. She met my stepdad when I was five, and he’s basically been Dad ever since. He even coached my little league team one year.”
“Bet your mom came to every game,” Todd says quietly.
