Drew frowns down at his plate, then back up at me. “How would you know that?”
“Oh,” I say, waving my fork. “Patterns.”
Sebastian smirks.
Drew looks ready to flee. The table or the country, I’m not sure.
Halfway through the meal, I tilt my head, studying Sebastian. “Your car is due for an oil change.”
Sebastian doesn’t look surprised. “I know.”
Drew chokes. It’s not dramatic—just enough to be alarming. He coughs, hand flying to his chest, eyes wide as he stares at me like I’ve just confessed to a felony.
“You—what?” he croaks.
I blink. “Your brother’s car. The black Audi. The dash light’s been on for three days.”
Sebastian takes a sip of wine. “Four.”
I nod. “Four.”
Drew looks between us. “You… know that?”
“I pay attention,” I say kindly.
“That’s—” He coughs again. “That’s not something people usually know about other people’s cars.”
Sebastian shrugs. “She notices things.”
I smile at Drew. “You’ll get used to it.”
He doesn’t look convinced.
I think it’s cute, though. The way his ears turn pink. The way he grips his fork like it might protect him from me.
He’s sweet. Earnest.
He just needs a nice girl who locks the doors and doesn’t pop out of the shrubbery.
I hopehe finds her.
After dinner,I load the dishwasher. No one stops me. Sebastian never does. Drew looks like he wants to protest, but can’t figure out what rule applies here.
“Top rack only,” Sebastian murmurs as I slide in a glass.
“I know,” I say. “The stems chip otherwise.”
Drew stares at the counter like it holds the answers to life’s biggest questions.
When everything’s clean and humming, I slip on my slippers and step outside to grab the mail from the box. The night is cold. Quiet. Comfortable.
I sort through it quickly—junk, bills, something important-looking—and bring it inside, setting it neatly on the counter.
“I brought in the mail,” I say. “You’ve got a late notice.”
Sebastian sighs. “I’ll handle it.”
Drew watches the exchange like we’re speaking a language he doesn’t understand.
