"Was that before or after I caught you eating peanut butter straight out of the jar at 2AM?" I fire back.
She levels a finger at me. "That was between me and the pantry."
Laughter ripples around the kitchen. Even Declan cracks a smile.
It's strange, this ease between us. Like we've all come up for air after weeks of holding our breath. The stalker hasn't made a peep since that last note, and while none of us are naive enough to believe it's over, the silence has given us space to breathe, to settle. To almost feel normal.
"Okay," Gloria says, setting down her tablet with authority. "We've got two campaign shoots, three interviews, and a red carpet appearance on the books starting next week. The goal is to ease you back into public life without triggering a media frenzy."
"Sounds relaxing," Jade deadpans.
"And you're sure you want to do this?" Ethan asks Jade, his voice casual but his eyes watchful. "No rush if you need more time."
Something warm unfurls in my chest watching him with her. Over the past weeks, the professional wall he usually maintains has softened. Not crumbled, but... adapted.
"I'm sure," Jade says firmly. "I can't hide forever. Besides, I'm going stir-crazy in this house, charming as the company is."
"Understandable," Declan rumbles, surprising us all by joining the conversation pre-caffeine. "Cages are still cages, no matter how gilded."
"Deep thoughts from the mountain man," I tease. "Next you'll be quoting Thoreau."
"Bold of you to assume I've read Thoreau," Declan counters dryly.
"I don't know," Jade says, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "You strike me as the 'quiet desperation' type."
My eyebrows shoot up. Not only did Declan just make a joke, but Jade caught the reference and threw it back at him. These daily runs they've been taking have clearly created some kind of weird literary bond.
"Boss, I think we're losing them to the intellectuals," I stage-whisper to Ethan. "Soon they'll be discussing existentialism and wearing black turtlenecks."
"Hey, at least none of the next appointments are international," Sophie chimes in, eyes wide. "That Italian Vogue editor is still emailing about the cover they want to do with you."
"Ignore him for now," Jade says, then turns to Sophie, softening. "And thank you for organizing all this. I know you've been juggling a lot."
Sophie blinks, clearly touched. She's been nervous ever since the day Jade's mother showed up, like she's waiting to be replaced by someone who triple-checks IDs and never cries in the supply closet. But Jade's patience with her has been steady, even gentle. She sees people. Really sees them. And it's not something you expect from someone who grew up on magazine covers.
"You're welcome," Sophie says quietly.
"Anyone else feel like we're the cast of some weird domestic sitcom?" I say. "Gloria's the bossy-but-loving aunt, Ethan's the broody older brother, Declan's the emotionally unavailable dad, and I'm the hot neighbor everyone underestimates."
"Which makes Jade?" Gloria asks, amused.
"Obviously the misunderstood genius with the peanut butter addiction," I shoot back.
Jade flips me off with a graceful flick of her fingers, still smiling.
"So tomorrow's shoot at Bradbury Building," Ethan says, steering us back to business. "I've reviewed the security protocols. Declan and I will go on-site with Jade. Mateo, you'll run surveillance from the SUV."
"The SUV?" I protest, nearly choking on my cinnamon roll. "Why am I stuck in the car?"
"Because you're our tech guy," Ethan says reasonably, "and because last time you were at a photoshoot..."
"...I specialized in making friends, yes, I remember," I interrupt. "The makeup artist came on to me!"
"Which is exactly why you're in the van," Ethan concludes.
"Et tu, Boss?" I clutch my chest dramatically. "And here Ithought you appreciated my social intelligence."
"Your social intelligence is precisely what worries me," Ethan says dryly.
