He looks tired. Not in the end-of-day way—more like someone who hasn’t slept because his thoughts won’t behave. He also looks like a man who came here for three things and will leave with twelve, none of which include peace.
“Didn’t expect to see you here,” he says.
I glance at his basket. Chicken. Rice. Frozen vegetables. Practical. Efficient. A little lonely. The unmistakable diet of a man avoiding takeout out of spite.
“Same,” I reply. “But I needed a few things for dinner.”
We stand there for a beat too long. The hum of the refrigeration units fills the silence.
“How are you?”
“Good,” I say. “You?”
“Good.”
The silence stretches a beat.
“How’s Sebastian?” I finally ask.
He doesn’t answer right away.
I pick up a bell pepper, turning it slowly in my hand as if deciding whether it’s worth keeping or setting back.
“He’s… busy,” he says, finally. “Focused.”
Focused is Drew’s polite way of saying Sebastian is emotionally barricaded.
I exhale through my nose. “That sounds like him.” I set the pepper into my cart. “He’s good at narrowing his world when he needs control.”
Drew stiffens slightly.
“I’m not criticizing,” I add gently. “It’s one of the things that makes him very good at what he does.”
That eases him.
He nods, then hesitates. “This morning—” He stops himself, shaking his head. “Never mind.”
I meet his gaze. “You noticed I wasn’t there.”
He studies me for a moment, like he’s trying to decide what kind of person I am.
“What are you doing tonight?” he asks, then immediately looks like he regrets it.
I smile. “Nothing planned.” A lie—but not an important one.
“I thought you might… come over,” he says carefully.
I tilt my head. “Sebastian didn’t ask.”
Drew frowns. “That doesn’t usually stop you.”
“I think he needs space right now,” I say softly. “I don’t want to overwhelm him.”
Drew looks genuinely surprised. Something in his shoulders loosens. Like he’s relieved this isn’t going to turn into a neighborhood intervention.
“You don’t?”
I shake my head. “Not when something matters.”
