He’s leaning against the wall, watching everything like he’s studying a problem.
“Funny,” he says, pushing off the wall slightly. “You just happened to be out walking at night when all this happened?”
There it is.
I meet his gaze easily. “Yes.”
Let him doubt me. He’ll understand eventually.
His expression doesn’t change. “Late night walks your thing?” he asks.
“Sometimes,” I reply.
The silence stretches.
“Sebastian,” Drew mutters, pinching his brow. “We have enough drama with the cats.”
I look at them.
Mr. Pickles hasn’t moved.
Luna is purring because Ivy is petting her.
He nods once, unconvinced.
That’s fine. I’ll win him over.
I shift slightly, adjusting Luna in my arms.
Drew is watching me again, like he’s trying to figure me out.
I let my fingers trail lightly over Luna’s head, calm and steady.
“This is nice,” Ivy says, standing and brushing her hands off. “We should do this more often.”
I look at Drew.
He hesitates.
“…Yeah,” he finally says.
This is how it starts. Small moments that build and layer until it feels natural.
Inevitable.
Until he stops questioning it altogether.
I glance toward Mr. Pickles.
He’s still watching.
He looks curious. Not threatening.
“Do you want to meet Luna?” I ask.
Mr. Pickles glances at me, then at Luna.
He slowly approaches.
