“Some failed architect’s personal testing ground” was what Park said. But the mishmash of classic styles with, ah, daring new takes at modernity that had never taken quite taken off—for undoubtedly good reasons—amused Cooper. Made the house a whole lot less Architectural Digest. More livable and—

This time Cooper heard the noise, too. A thud and creak from the back porch. The living room was still dark, but he could make out Boogie’s silhouette on the arm of the couch. She was arching her back slightly, tail twice its usual size.

Cooper made his way to the kitchen where there was a door to the outside, grabbing a poker from the fireplace as he went. Holding it up like a baseball bat, he peered out of the back door window.

Again, he saw nothing. Empty porch, empty yard. The dark tree line was uninterrupted by looming figures, ax-wielding or otherwise.

Carefully he opened the door. His heart was pounding hard. He tried to remember what Dr. Ripodi had said. Is this a useful emotion? Well, if he was about to be attacked, he would never hear them coming over the sound of his own rushing blood, so no, it wasn’t particularly useful. Now what could he do to calm down? They hadn’t talked about that bit yet.

Cooper stepped out on the back porch, scanning the yard for any trace of movement, for any shadow that was a little too dark, a little too still. Knocked to the bottom of the porch steps was Park’s second attempt at holiday decorations—a jack-o’-lantern he’d carved last week without any tools he didn’t already have sprouting from his fingertips. He’d done it purely for his own amusement, as their house was too far set back from the road to actually display them. Now it had split open and its irritated expression—Park’s attempt at Cooper’s face; he swore he was going for thoughtful, but he couldn’t even get the lie out without laughing—had morphed into a gaping sort of scream.

Cooper took another cautious step forward. It almost looked like something had been digging at it. Another animal?

A loud, violent buzzing broke the silence, and Cooper jumped and bit his lip hard. “Shit.”

He hastily went back inside and locked the kitchen door behind him before heading back to the living room. Boogie was nowhere to be seen. His phone vibrated again, obnoxiously loud against the low wooden coffee table.

Cooper answered it, snapping, “What.”

There was a second of silence. “And here I was thinking my fiancé might be happy to hear from me.” Park’s droll voice was an instant balm, as little sense as that made.

Cooper let out the breath he’d been holding. “Sorry, who is this?”

“Just a hot single in your neighborhood, looking to chat. You busy?”