“Well, now we definitely can’t say no,” he said.
Lex’s expression softened slightly—not quite a smile, but close. “If you’re sure we’re not imposing.”
“You’re not.” I stepped aside, holding the door open. “Come in.”
They exchanged one of those wordless looks again before stepping inside. I led them to the kitchen, suddenly hyperaware of every detail of my space. There was mail on the counter, the coffee mug in the sink, the evidence of my very normal and ordinary life.
“Nice place,” Majesty said, looking around with genuine interest. “It suits you.”
“Thanks.” I pulled out two more plates and cut generous slices of cheesecake. “Hot cocoa okay for both of you, or would you prefer coffee?”
“Cocoa’s perfect,” Majesty said, settling onto one of the barstools at my kitchen island.
“Same,” Lex agreed, taking the stool beside him.
I made their drinks, handed over plates and mugs, and watched as they took their first bites.
Majesty’s eyes closed briefly. “Oh, that’s dangerous.”
“Agreed,” Lex said, his usual measured tone carrying a hint of appreciation. “This is excellent.”
“Thank you.” I picked up my own plate where I’d added another piece, suddenly unsure what to do. Standing feltawkward. “Do you want to sit in the living room? I was watching a movie.”
“Lead the way,” Majesty said.
We migrated to the couch, and I grabbed the remote, pulling up my streaming queue since the TV had powered off. “Fair warning, my taste is all over the place. Action, comedy, drama, horror…”
“What were you in the mood for?” Lex asked, settling into the opposite end of the couch while Majesty took the other side, leaving me in the middle.
“Honestly? Something I don’t have to think too hard about. It’s been a long day.”
“Comedy it is,” Majesty decided. “How do you feel about this one?” He pointed to a ridiculous-looking buddy cop movie I’d been meaning to watch.
“Perfect.”
We settled in, and for the first few minutes, I tried to focus on the movie. But I was intensely aware of them. Majesty’s easy laughter, Lex’s quiet commentary that was funnier than it had any right to be, and the comfortable way they’d made themselves at home in my space. Their shoes were left at the door, sweaters and jackets were off, and they both had another slice of cheesecake with more cocoa.
Somewhere around the halfway point, I realized I’d relaxed completely. My legs were tucked under me, my plate empty on the coffee table, and I was laughing at something Majesty said about the absurd car chase on the screen.
“Okay, but seriously,” I said, “do you think anyone has ever actually survived that in real life?”
“Physics says no,” Lex replied dryly. “Common sense says absolutely not.”
“But movies sayhellyes,” Majesty added with a grin.
The conversation drifted away from the movie to other films we’d seen, ridiculous action sequences, and stories from their travels. Lex told a story about a workshop in Seattle that had gone hilariously wrong when the ropes they’d ordered turned out to be yacht rope instead of bondage rope. Majesty contributed his own tale about a custom furniture order that had been way more complicated than advertised.
I found myself sharing stories too, about difficult clients, fashion emergencies, the time I’d accidentally styled someone in an exact replica of an outfit a celebrity had worn to the same event.
The movie ended, but none of us moved to turn it off or suggest leaving.
“I should probably let you get some sleep,” Lex said eventually, but he didn’t stand.
“Probably,” I agreed, not moving either.
“Or,” Majesty said slowly, “we could put on another movie. If you’re not tired yet.”
I should have said no. Should have let them leave, should have maintained some kind of professional boundary. But I didn’t want them to go.
