I don’t hesitate.
“Because she didn’t run.”
Freddie whistles softly.
Mitchell studies me carefully. “You’re markingher? Now that feels serious.”
“No.”
“Yes,” Freddie says immediately. “You are.”
“It’s not ownership,” I say. “It can’t be. I mean, she isn’t going to be here for long. She’s leaving…” Even if I can’t envision that, I keep needing to remind myself that it’s real. “It’s just a moment.”
Mitchell lifts a brow. “I see.”
Timothy is calm. “It’s a moment.”
“Yes.”
Freddie grabs a sketch pad. “So. Broken pane. Gold seams. Maybe subtle. Not a literal window.”
Mitchell nods. “Could abstract it. Fracture lines across something solid.”
Timothy taps the counter thoughtfully. “Placement?”
I roll up my sleeve without answering.
Forearm.
Inside.
Where I’ll see it every time I reach for something.
Freddie grins. “Oh, he’s serious.”
Mitchell gestures toward the chair. “Sit.”
I sit.
Timothy sets up the station with efficient movements. Freddie starts sketching.
“You know Ivy’s going to ask,” Freddie says casually.
“Ivy asks everything,” I reply.
Mitchell smirks. “True. She’s nosy, and she has taken a real liking to Aurora.”
Freddie laughs. “Doesn’t it feel strange that Ivy wasn’t always here? Now it feels like if she isn’t in the center of something, it isn’t happening.”
Timothy glances at my forearm as he lays out clean paper and a little tray of ink caps. “You sure you want it there? That’s a high-visibility spot.”
“That’s the point.”
Freddie looks up, eyes bright. “Oh, he hasfeelingsfeelings.”
“I have…,” I start, then stop.
Freddie’s grin goes feral. “Say it. Say the word.”
