Because it was hers.
Because if I was staying—and I was—I needed to know this city the way she had.
The ordinary parts. The hopeful parts, like the ones I’d focused on when I first arrived.
He studied me for a second, measuring.
Then nodded once.
“Okay.”
I set the box down carefully, almost reverently.
“We’ll start there,” I said. “Lunch. Something simple.”
His gaze softened slightly.
“You sure you’re staying?” he asked quietly.
“Yes.”
The word came easier this time.
“I’m not leaving Sabine. Not yet. And I’m not shutting down this apartment like it was just a temporary rental. If Rose kept it for a reason, I want to understand why.”
He didn’t argue.
But his jaw tightened faintly.
“What?” I asked.
“If you stay,” he said carefully, “you stay knowing things might get … complicated.”
My eyes narrowed slightly.
“You keep saying that.”
“And you keep not asking what it means.”
“Because I know if I push, you’ll shut down.”
A pause.
He didn’t deny it.
I stepped closer.
“Then give me something,” I said quietly. “Not the full file. Just … you.”
His eyes held mine.
Something shifted there. A calculation. A decision.
“There’s a friend of mine,” he said finally. “Connor Ward.”
The name landed with weight.
“Friend,” I repeated. “Or coworker?”
