Morning light. Coffee smell.
I woke up confused. Then remembered. Julian. Couch. Papers.
I walked out in my pajamas. He was in the kitchen. Making coffee. Wearing yesterday's clothes.
"There's only oat milk," he said. "I checked."
"That's what you drink."
"I know. I was checking for you."
I laughed. Just a little.
He poured coffee. Handed me a mug.
"I should go. Change. Get to work."
"It's Saturday."
He paused. Looked at his phone.
"So it is."
"Stay. I'll make breakfast."
"You cook everything?"
"I cook what I know. Eggs. Toast. More coffee."
He sat at the counter. I cooked.
We ate. Talked about nothing. Work. Movies. The cats at Willa's.
At noon, he finally left. At the door, he paused.
"Dinner tonight?"
"Same place?"
"Your place. I'll bring wine."
"Okay."
He left.
I stood in the doorway for a minute. Then closed the door and smiled.
The weeks that followed were quiet. Good quiet.
Work. Dinner. Weekends at Willa's with the cats. Phone calls with Mitchell about the licensing agreement.
Sloane was transferred to a federal prison in West Virginia. Minimum security. Ten years. She'd be out in eight with good behavior.
Dorian was in state prison. I didn't track which one. Didn't care.
The internet moved on. New scandals. New villains. New victims.
I stayed.
Then, on a Tuesday, Julian showed up at my door with an envelope.
"Another one?"
"Different."
I opened it. A check. Large. Very large.
"What's this?"
"First royalty payment. The protocol is being adopted by three new clients. You get a percentage."
I stared at the number.
"Julian, this is—"
"It's yours. You earned it."
I sat down. The check in my hands. The number blurring.
"I don't know what to do with this."
"Anything you want. Travel. Invest. Buy a house. Buy a hundred houses. Whatever."
I looked at him.
"Stay."
He blinked. "What?"
"Stay. Not on the couch. Just—stay."
He looked at me. Gray eyes. Soft now.
"Are you sure?"
"I've been sure for months. I just needed to say it."
He stepped inside. Closed the door.
"Okay."
"Okay?"
"Okay, I'll stay."
I kissed him. First time. Soft. Quiet. Real.
He kissed back.
The city glittered outside. The pan sat on the stove. The check lay on the table.
None of it mattered as much as this.