It was Friday now, which meant Celestia had officially turned what was supposed to be a weekend thing into a whole week. She'd spent every night at my place since last Saturday, sliding into my bed like it was hers, brushing her teeth with my toothpaste, stealing my T-shirts, feeding Duchess more than I ever did.
At first, I thought she was just being stubborn. That was her brand—she decided something, and that was that. But after Monday, after watching her cry in my arms, I couldn't even bring myself to joke about sending her home. The truth? She didn't look like she wanted to go home.
And I didn't have the heart to make her.
That was a Monday problem anyway. Monday was still days away.
For now, it was Friday morning.
And somehow, I was driving. Again.
"Why are you smiling like that?" I asked, glancing at her out of the corner of my eye. She'd been staring at me since I backed out of the driveway.
