“I’m not hung up. What does that even mean, anyway?”
Sebastian pulls out a chair and sits at the table. “The same thing as smitten.”
“I’m not.”
“Yeah, right,” they say in unison.
“Whatever. I’m going to wash up before dinner.”
I hurry from the kitchen like my pants are on fire.
I don’t miss Violet. Not like that.
I miss her like you miss something that’s become part of your day—until it’s suddenly not there.
I barely know her yet.
But I want to.
I want to know everything about her.
And that’s the problem.
By dinner,my knee is bouncing uncontrollably beneath the table.
Sebastian watches me like a hawk about to swoop in and grab a fish.
Say something normal.
I open my mouth and blurt out, “I’m moving out.”
My hand curls around my fork.
Fuck. That wasn’t normal.
Ivy’s fork clangs against her plate. “What?”
That didn’t come out right.
“I mean, I rented a place.”
Silence falls over the room, heavy and immediate.
“…You what?” she asks.
“I rented a house,” I repeat. “Signed a one-year lease.”
More silence.
“Since when were you looking at houses?” Sebastian asks.
“I wasn’t. Not really. I just... found one.”
“That doesn’t answer the question,” he says flatly.
“It wasn’t a big process,” I reply. “I saw it. Liked it. Went back. Signed.”
Ivy slowly picks up her fork. Like she needs something to ground her. “You just…decided?”
