Kincaid had been right. He’d needed time away from the situation. He didn’t forgive Melanie for cheating on him. There was no excuse for that. But he understood why her head had been so easily turned. He’d become a stranger to her. And being with her had made him a stranger to himself.

Being with Kincaid these last few weeks had brought that home more than anything. He’d forgotten how it felt to be fully in his own skin and truly seen. He couldn’t put on a front with Kincaid because she’d see right through the bullshit. She knew him when. She knew the roots from which he’d grown. She had best-friend intel, and there was no hiding from that.

That feeling was both a relief and terrifying.

A relief because he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so relaxed and happy.

Terrifying because it was making him consider things that he had no business considering. Things he couldn’t have.

The sharp click of shoes heading up the back hallway dragged him from his thoughts, and he turned to find Kincaid hurrying toward him, blond hair blowing back from her face with her swiftness. “Ash.”

“Kincaid,” he said, matching her urgent tone and smiling. She’d gone upstairs earlier to move a few of her things into his apartment. She’d officially be moving her stuff over to the farmhouse next week and was going to be staying with him for a few days during the transition—not that they hadn’t been spending nearly every night together anyway. “What’s on fire?”

She slipped behind the counter with him, eyes a little frantic. “It’s Charlie and Grace.”

His stomach dropped. “What’s wrong?”

“No, no,” she said, shaking her head. “Sorry, I should’ve led with ‘Everyone is healthy,’ but Charlie and Grace are headed over. Like, to see the place. Like, now.”

Based on her expression, this was not a good thing. “Okay. They do have the right to do that. They kind of own the place.”

She grabbed the front of his shirt. “But it’s not ready. And there were still a few touches I wanted to add and they could hate it and—”

He kissed her, cutting off her words and cupping her face. “It’s going to be fine. The place looks fantastic. You’ve done an amazing job.”

She let out a breath and wrapped her arms around his neck. “You think?”

“Yes.”

“And it’s we, not I. We’ve done a good job,” she said adamantly. “This is a we thing.”

“Right. I like we things,” he said, pulling her close and touching his nose to hers. “We’re good at those things.”

“Ashton Isaacs, are you making sexual innuendos at a time like this?” she chided.

“Never.” He smirked. He hadn’t actually meant any innuendo, but it was better if she took it that way.

She tilted her face toward him and kissed him again. Ash let himself relish the gentle kiss, loving the feeling of ease between them. They were people who kissed now. Just for the hell of it. Not as a prelude to a hookup. Not as a means to an end. Kissing like a couple.