The knock on Claire’s apartment door came just after nine.
She wasn’t expecting anyone, but she could guess who it was.
Still in leggings and a loose sweatshirt, her hair piled messily on top of her head, she padded barefoot across the hardwood floor. When she peeked through the peephole and saw Brad, her breath caught in her throat.
She thought as much.
She hesitated.
Then opened the door.
“Brad.” She blinked at him, stunned. “What are you doing here?”
He didn’t answer immediately. Just stood there, hands in the pockets of his tailored coat, jaw set, eyes dark. The usual confidence that clung to him like a tailored suit felt... cracked. Restless.
“Can I come in?” he asked.
Claire hesitated again—but only for a second. “Yeah. Sure.”
She stepped aside, and he walked past her into
