More successful than I could’ve imagined.
The door closes with a soft click, and we pull away from the curb. I settle back into the seat, fingers brushing the paper handles of the bag as the city slips by.
I stare at Sebastian’s office building as we pass.
He thinks he understands attention.
He thinks he knows how this works.
But now I have options.
I’ve always been very good at escalation.
It’s my love language.
I lean back in my seat, already planning the look on his face when he realizes he’s not the only one I’m paying attention to.
We’ll see how much you like sharing.
I grin.
I already know how this ends.
16
IVY
I climb over the railing just before sunset, landing lightly on the wooden boards. The door slides open easily.
Drew is on the couch, his laptop balanced on his knees, his attention fixed on the screen. He doesn’t hear me at first.
“Hello, Drew.”
He jumps. The laptop slides off his lap and thumps onto the couch beside him as he scrambles upright, eyes wide like he’s just seen a ghost.
“I really need to start wearing a bell,” I add thoughtfully. “For your heart health.” I smile and lift the bag in my hand. “I brought stuff for dinner.”
“You—you can’t just—” He stops himself and runs a hand through his hair. “I mean. Hi.”
I stroll inside like it’s the most natural thing in the world, slipping off my shoes and heading straight for the kitchen.
Drew follows, clearly torn between fleeing and supervising. “You really don’t have to do this,” he says as I unload the bag onto the counter.
I glance at him over my shoulder. “I know, silly. I want to.”
Setting my bag on the table, I pull out the vegetables and a bag of potatoes. Then I turn, open the refrigerator, take out the steaks I know Sebastian has, set them on a plate, and hum softly as I reach for the seasoning.
“I always use this brand for Sebastian,” I tell Drew, sprinkling it evenly over the meat. “It’s his favorite. I hope you like it too.”
“Yes—yes, it’s fine,” Drew says quickly. “But?—”
I turn to the cutting board and start chopping the onion I brought, the knife moving quickly and efficiently.
He goes quiet.
I feel his eyes on my hands.
“What is it, Drew?” I ask, lifting my eyes.
