Phoebe's POV
I rolled my eyes at Harold. "Am I supposed to thank you?"
Harold wore that gentle, loving expression he knew drove me crazy. "You're welcome. It's my duty."
I couldn't take it anymore. I grabbed a grape from the table and hurled it at him. "Have some shame, Harold."
He caught the grape smoothly, peeled it with practiced ease, and brought it to my lips. "Don't be mad. Come on, open up."
His playful teasing melted away my frustration. I parted my lips, accepted the grape, and chewed it slowly.
The others around the table shared meaningful looks before quietly getting up and leaving.
They'd clearly had enough - and apparently had no stomach for watching us together.
By evening, darkness had already settled outside.
I descended the stairs dressed entirely in black, a cap pulled low over my face. The cold authority in my stride made everyone below look up immediately.
Charlies had refused to leave after hearing that Harold and I had serious business tonight.
