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I smile before typing back.

Me: Give me twenty minutes.

The fact that he’ll be gone tomorrow is there, sitting quietly underneath everything, but neither of us has turned today into some dramatic countdown. He had rehearsal and final tour meetings. I had clients and shop paperwork. Tonight we have each other.

That feels better than spending the entire day mourning something that hasn’t happened yet.

His front door is open when I cross the porch twenty minutes later.

“You waiting for someone?” I call as I step inside.

“Only you.”

His voice comes from the bedroom, and I follow it.

There’s an open suitcase on the bed, another bag on the floor, and enough clothes spread around to make it obvious he started packing without much of a plan. Zander is standing at the dresser with two nearly identical black T-shirts in his hands.

I lean against the doorframe. “You know those are basically the same shirt.”

“They’re different.”

“Sure, they are.”

He smiles and tosses one into the suitcase before crossing the room to me.

He pulls me in for a hug, and kisses me slowly enough that I forget about the suitcase for a few seconds.

This feels more like us. Easy again. Tomorrow still matters, but there’s no tension hiding underneath every sentence anymore, no question waiting to become another argument.

I step around him and pick up a crumpled piece of paper near the suitcase. “What’s this?”

“Final travel schedule.”

I unfold it and scan the first few lines. “Portland’s first?”

“Friday night. We leave early tomorrow so we can get up there, unload, soundcheck, and deal with everything that happens before we go on stage.”

“That’s a great place to start.” I keep reading, then glance up. “What time are you leaving?”

“Six.”

“In the morning?”

The look he gives me answers that before he does. “Unfortunately.”

I set the schedule on the dresser and move back toward him. “I was hoping I had more time with you tomorrow.”

“You’ve got me tonight.”

“That sounds promising.”

He kisses me, warmer this time, and I let myself lean into it for a few seconds before pulling back. “If I keep distracting you, you’re going to be packing at midnight.”

“I’m okay with that.”

“You won’t be when your alarm goes off at five.”

His gaze drops to my mouth. “Might still be worth it.”