Outside, the string lights still glowed over the empty yard. Inside, the dishwasher hummed. Upstairs, I could hear the faint sound of cartoons playing too low from one of the bedrooms. The bones of the day settled — laughter, smoke, music — into a warm ache in my chest. Ahmir wiped his hands on a towel and turned to face me fully.
“You good?” he asked.
I nodded. “Yeah. Just… tired. The good kind though.”
He took a few steps closer, stopping in front of me. Not crowding. Just… there. His eyes found mine, searching the way they always did, like he was looking for inventory, not emotion.
“Today was good,” he said quietly. “You were… happy.”
“You keep sounding surprised,” I said.
“I’m not surprised,” he replied. “I’m… invested.”
That word did something to me I’d rather not name.
“Your
