Blake exhaled sharply, letting his head fall back. “Oh my God. I hate all of you.”

“You love us,” she said smugly.

“Debatable.”

“You do! Just admit it.”

Blake sighed, defeated.

Jamal shook his head, laughing so hard he could barely breathe. “Dear Beverly. It’s been months, and I’m still trying to figure out how to function without you. I mean, sure, I can technically feed myself, but I wouldn’t call it cooking. Last night I microwaved an entire pizza and somehow managed to burn it. In the microwave… I didn’t even know that was possible. I’m starting to wonder if I’m cursed. I’ve got all this knowledge floating around in my head, this supposed ‘genius’ that I used to rely on, but without you here to help me put it to use⁠—”

Blake snatched the letter out of Jamal’s hand, cutting him off mid-sentence. “Okay, okay, we get it,” he muttered, his voice dripping with annoyance as he crumpled the paper in his fist.

Jamal laughed. “Don’t shoot the messenger.”

“I swear, you’re all going to be the death of me,” Blake said, running a hand through his hair.

But even as he said it, a small smile tugged at his lips.

Jamal snorted quietly, tossing a blanket at us from god-knows-where. “Alright. We’re doing a sleepover.”

I blinked, catching the blanket awkwardly against my chest. “Sleepover?”

“I brought matching pajamas,” Tiffany announced with a grin, practically bouncing with excitement. “And a face mask that smells like cake. Oh, I also brought these cozy socks that are ridiculously soft and nail polish in every color under the sun.”

Blake raised an eyebrow but couldn’t hide his amusement. “You really came prepared, huh?”

“You bet I did.” Jamal pointed to the duffel bag by the door. “Got basketball shorts and a portable speaker. I say we take turns roasting Blake’s love letters until he cries.”

“Already cried,” Blake muttered under his breath.

“Round two, then.”

Tiffany stood up and stretched. “I’m raiding the kitchen. Beverly, you’re in charge of not sobbing for the next ten minutes. That’s my boundary.”

I huffed a laugh, wiping my damp cheeks. “No promises.”

Blake returned to the couch, slowly lowering himself next to me. Without any warning, he shifted, gently but firmly pinning me down with his arm, his head resting on my shoulder as if he couldn’t bear to be apart. He nuzzled into my side, his breath warm against my neck, and let out a soft, contented sigh.

“You good?” he asked, his voice low, the question simple but loaded with so much more.

I nodded, my heart doing a little flip in my chest as I leaned into him without meaning to. “Yeah,” I murmured, even though I wasn’t sure what “good” even meant anymore. But being here, with him, in this moment, it felt like I could breathe again.