twenty-three
Sunday’s became their thing.
Every week Evie would travel to Oak’s as early as she could. Sometimes, if she slept, it was as late as eight AM, but she’d managed just after four once. She’d been proud of forcing herself outside at an hour that early.
They’d be coming into the winter months soon and she didn’t know how he would handle that time of year because with the longer nights, she spent more time in her apartment alone.
Seven weeks after spending her first Sunday here, Evie was back in Oak’s apartment.
Alone at the kitchen island, she was sipping fresh coffee and reading back what she’d just typed when a yawning Oakley came into view from the bedroom through the living room.
“You’re up early,” he said, coming over to sink one hand onto the back of her stool and the
