“Just go and get food.”

He’s laughing as he leaves, and it’s not until the front door bangs closed behind him that Perry risks a look around again.

“He’s gone,” I confirm.

“He called me a pest.”

I’m about to point out that he is a fucking pest and that Lars still isn’t over the fact Perry almost killed me, but the guy has had a hard enough night. Visiting his sister really opened up a side of him I wasn’t expecting—mostly because I assumed that everyone who meets Perry falls into his spell. It happened with me, I can see it happening with Lars, and all the people at the cafe who ever said so much as a word to him brightened instantly.

His sister was fucking ruthless.

I probably shouldn’t say anything, but it’s not like uncomfortable conversations are anything new for us, and we don’t have a lot else to talk about.

“Is she always that hard on you?”

“Who?” He turns to another cupboard and starts pulling out packaged food at random.

“Your sister.”

For some reason, he looks surprised. “She’s not hard on me. She’s tired.”

“She was really worked up.” I’m not sure whether to say more, but I sort of want to make him feel better. The downtrodden look he wore should never, ever be on his face. “I didn’t like it.”

“Me either, but probably not for the same reasons.” Perry checks the date on a box of cereal, and it must pass because he pops it open and tears into the bag. Then he heads over to sit on the enormous couch. He takes the end closest to the large windows, and with night well and truly kicking in, the city is alive with lights.

The lights in here aren’t on, and I don’t bother to change that as I join him. “Want to talk about it?”

“About my sister?” He turns a fruit loop over between his fingers. “I hate making her like that.”

“You didn’t make her like anything. She overreacted.”

His sad smile doesn’t do much to make me feel better about the whole thing. “If this was the only time, I’d agree with you. Margot has been there for me my entire life. Through everything. All the good and the bad, and I never doubted I’d have her support. Unfortunately, what you saw was years and years’ worth of this same thing building up on her. She worries a lot, even more since our parents died, and I wish she didn’t, but I can’t seem to find that balance between what I want for my life and what she wants.”

“What does she want?”

“I dunno …” He throws the fruit loop into his mouth and talks around it. “A good job, nice place, probably a wife and kids.”

I bristle at that. “Specifically a wife?”