The air outside my place was crisp, carrying that faint, metallic scent of a coming storm. I was slumped on my porch, a glass of cheap but decent red wine in hand, watching the streetlights flicker to life. The gate hinges groaned—a sound I was starting to recognize as his.
Leo rounded the corner, his tie slung over his shoulder and his dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar. He looked like he’d been battling corporate spreadsheets all day, but the moment his eyes landed on me, that tired, professional mask dissolved. He didn't even make it to his own door; he just stepped onto my porch and claimed the empty chair next to me, sliding his shoes off as if he owned the place.
"Rough day?" I asked, pushing the bottle toward him.
"The board decided that profit margins are more important th
