Vivienne's POV
He sat on my sofa.
I sat in the chair across from him. Not beside him. Across. Something about the weight of what was coming needed space around it. Not distance exactly. Just enough room for whatever was going to move through this apartment tonight to move properly.
I had made tea without asking if he wanted any.
My mother's habit finding me without my permission.
He had wrapped both hands around the mug the way she always did and looked at it for a moment and something about that small thing, the way he held it, made my chest ache in a way I didn't have a clean explanation for.
The apartment was quiet.
The city outside was doing its late night thing. Distant and indifferent.
He looked up from the mug.
"I need to tell you something about who I am," he said. "All of
