He smiled when he saw me and I couldn’t help thinking how much had changed between us in such a short period.

“In a moment,” he said, then nodded to the mug. “Tea helps me decompress at the end of the day.”

“Same. Though tonight I may need a gallon.”

The corner of his mouth curved up, in sympathy and understanding, not mockery. “You have had quite the holiday so far, haven’t you?” he noted, his voice softer, deeper.

I was tempted to laugh at his understatement, but held back. There was something about the lighting and the stillness of our surroundings that invited whispers. He set the kettle aside and leaned his hip against the counter and his focus shifted entirely on me, which sent my heart hammering wildly.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

“What for?”

“Listening earlier. Being on my side.” His gaze fell away for a moment. “I haven’t talked about . . . all that happened with anyone other than my auntie in a long time. And absolutely no one my age. It’s a bit freeing, really.”

That surprised me, despite knowing how high he tended to keep the walls around himself. I wasn’t sure I could’ve held off telling someone not in my family my side of a story like his. But that made me even more aware how big a step this was. For him. For me. For us.

“Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me,” I said.

And the way he just looked at me, intensely, it almost felt as if the ground beneath our feet was shifting, tipping us forward toward each other.

“I do, you know,” he said, in a voice so soft I almost missed it.

I leaned forward into the space between us, narrowing it. “What?”

He reached out to touch my hair. “Trust y—”

“Finley, there you are.”

Arthur and I straightened away from each other in a flash and I turned to see Mom enter the kitchen. Her attention bounced between me and Arthur, curious.

“Hi, hi,” I said awkwardly. “Mom, this is Arthur Chakra-barti Watercress. Arthur, this is my mom.”

Arthur nodded. “How do you do, ma’am.”

Mom smiled. “Arthur, right. Finley mentioned you.”

His brow lifted in surprise. “Oh? Good things, I hope.”

“Just about the sleigh ride.” Her smile thinned. “And that you were here with your aunt. Is she around?”

Crap! I turned my back to Arthur enough that I could widen my eyes at my mother, send her a white-hot “cease and desist” look.

“Auntie is upstairs,” he told her.

Mom plastered on a brighter expression that I knew from experience wasn’t remotely authentic. “Well, I look forward to meeting her, too.”

Taking Mom’s hand, I turned back to Arthur. “Okay, so, good talk. Had a lotta fun tonight. Mom and I are going to the lobby. Bye!”