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She knows a guy. She always does. Probably enough dirt to approve a hot dog cart in a sewage plant. I don’t ask. Some things are better left unknown.

Who would’ve thought we’d end up here?

Sebastian’s the first to move, pulling Lil up with him. “As much as I’d love to watch Elijah critique tap water, some of us have an eight AM board meeting.”

“Which you’ll sleep through anyway,” Lil follows his guidance.

He helps her into her coat. “That’s the Barron charm, princess.”

“Dinner was amazing,” Mary beams at us, while Connor gives a quick nod of approval. “Thank you for the invitation.”

“Lil, wait!” Mary catches her outside the door. “Lunch on Tuesday? Gemma found this new place, and we have to try it.” Behind her, Connor’s shrugging on his jacket.

Elijah and Gemma leave next, but not before Elijah claps Brandon on the shoulder.

“Don’t fuck this up,” Blake slurs at Brandon, before pulling me into a tight hug. “Proud of you, NayNay.” Then Serena’s pushing her toward the door.

Elliot follows suit, and for someone who claims to hate Serena, he sure as hell watches her ass a lot.

Anne hangs back, and my chest tightens. She hasn’t said much all night, but when she hugs me, her grip is fierce. “You deserve this,” she whispers. “All of it.”

Landon just nods at us, his hand finding Anne’s lower back as they leave. Always touching, those two. Like they’re afraid the other might disappear.

Mykel’s the last to go, throwing a lazy salute. “Try not to break anything important while christening the kitchen.”

“Get out,” Brandon growls.

The door closes, and suddenly, it’s just us.

I start gathering the remaining plates, the familiar routine grounding after the chaos of dinner.

“Leave it.” Brandon’s voice carries from the kitchen. “I’ll get it later.”

“You cooked. I can clean.” I stack another plate, careful with the expensive china. “Besides, I’ve seen your version of cleaning, and I would very much like to get home soon.”

“Home?” He appears in the doorway, dish towel slung over his shoulder. His chef’s whites are stained with sauce, hair a mess from running his hands through it all night.

“Yeah, home.” I carry the plates to the sink in the kitchen.

He takes them from me and starts loading the industrial dishwasher, his shoulders loose.

“Everyone loved the food. I think the opening is going to be a full success.”

“Did you see Elijah’s face during the pasta?”

“Like he was constipated from holding back comments?”

“Mom would’ve loved it. The whole night.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He focuses on arranging the plates, not meeting my eyes. “She used to say food was the best way to show love. Had all these weird theories about it.”

“Tell me.” I love it when he shares his memories with me.

“Like… I already told you about the nicknames. Like you being my cupcake.” He turns back to the dishes. “You should move in. Officially.”

“What?”

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