“You should,” I reply with a small grin. “I’m very dramatic when betrayed.”
She rolls her eyes automatically. Good. Reflex intact.
“But,” I continue, leaning back in my chair, “I’m also not twelve. So. Spill.”
Silence stretches.
Zane finally pushes off the counter. “You don’t need details.”
I smirk. “Oh, I don’t need details. I’m not asking for a play-by-play, Romeo. I just need to know if we’re adjusting the emotional climate settings.”
Aurora covers her face with her hands for half a second.
“That’s not helpful,” she mumbles.
“That’s my brand.”
She drops her hands and looks at me. And this time there’s no blush, no deflection. Just honesty.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” she says.
And just like that, the teasing drains out of me.
Because that’s not flustered.
That’s scared.
I lean forward, elbows on my knees.
“With us?” I ask gently.
“With… everything,” she whispers.
Zane goes still behind her.
I glance at him. He’s calm. Too calm. Which means he’s giving her space to answer without interference.
Good man.
“You don’t have to know,” I say. “Everyone knows I’ve done half my life without a blueprint.”
Aurora gives me a faint look. “That tracks.”
“Rude.”
A flicker of a smile.
Progress.
She sighs and stares at her hands. “I didn’t plan any of this. I came here to scatter ashes. And now I’m…” She gestures vaguely between the two of us. “This.”
“You’re human,” I say simply.
She huffs. “That’s not comforting.”
“It’s accurate.”
Zane steps closer but doesn’t touch her. He sets a fresh mug in front of her without comment. His version of reassurance.
