Ava’s POV
Nathaniel’s door closed behind us and the city noise turned into a distant hum, like a radio someone else was playing. For a few long seconds I just stood there, holding the folder like an anchor, and looked around his apartment as if I’d never been here before.
His place was very him. Green everywhere, but not loud deep, calm greens: a wall planted with real moss, a row of potted grass along the sill, a velvet couch that looked like it had been grown, not bought. There were clean surfaces and books stacked by size, not by subject. Light poured in from floor-to-ceiling windows and melted over the metal and wood. The whole space smelled faintly of lemon and cedar, like he’d opened a window and brought the city’s cleaner breath inside. It felt safe, oddly domestic in a way that m
