"Unique." His smile deepened. "Goodnight, Candace."
"Goodnight, Sebastian."
He held my gaze a beat too long—long enough to warm my cheeks—then turned and limped toward the stairs.
His boot thudded against each step. Slower as he climbed.
I watched until he disappeared around the corner.
Then I reached for the doggy bag. "Well, I should probably—"
Rosie's hand closed around my arm.
Gentle. Firm.
"Candace, honey." Her voice softened, the fussing-mother brightness gone. "Can we talk for a minute?"
My stomach dropped.
"I really should get going," I tried, gesturing toward the door with my free hand. "It's late, and you probably want to—"
"I want to talk to you." Rosie's grip didn't loosen. Her eyes—warm and brown, so much like Sebastian's—held mine with quiet insistence. "Please. Just for a few minutes."
I could have pulled away. Could have made an excuse, grabbed the doggy bag, and fled into the night like the coward I was.
"Okay," I heard myself say instead. "Sure."
She released my arm and gestured toward the living room. "Come. Sit."
I followed her to the couch, perching on the edge of the cushion. Lavender sat in my lap, her lopsided trunk pointing accusingly at the ceiling.
Rosie settled into the armchair across from me, smoothing her hands over her knees. She didn't speak. Just waited.
Upstairs, footsteps creaked. A door opened. Closed.
Then the groan of old pipes. Water rushing through the walls.
The bath.
Rosie's shoulders eased.
"I don't want you to think I'm prying," she began, voice low. "And I don't want you to feel ambushed. But Emma told me a little bit about what you've been going through."
The words hit like ice water. Heat crawled up my neck. Not anger—worse. Exposure.
I kept my face neutral. Pleasant. The smile I'd perfected over years of brand deals and sponsorship meetings.
But inside, something crumpled.
"Oh," I said lightly, fingers tightening around Lavender. "She mentioned... what exactly?"
"Nothing really," she said kindly. "Just that you were dealing with a lot. I begged for more details, but she didn't budge."
She met my gaze. "She's a good friend."
"She is," I agreed quietly. "The best."
Rosie studied me for a long moment. Then she leaned back in her chair, folding her hands in her lap.
