Page 22

“You bought a fourteen-hundred-and-fifty-dollar espresso machine for my brother after one night.”

“I ordered it at 02:00, technically. During the night. The commitment was already total.”

Elena presses her fingers to her eyes. “And the password is… a declaration of loyalty. To the coffee machine.”

“To the espresso machine. There’s a difference, and the difference matters, and I will die on this hill.”

Elena looks at me. “Lucas. You married this man.”

“I’m aware.”

“On purpose? Sober? This wasn’t a dare, or a bet, or a one-night stand that escalated beyond your control?”

“It was a fake date that escalated beyond my control,” I say. “On purpose.”

“Incredible.” Elena opens the screw-cap wine and pours three glasses. She hands one to me, one to Preston, and keeps the third. She holds it up.

“To temporary arrangements,” she says.

“To temporary arrangements,” Preston says.

We drink. The wine’s terrible. Preston makes a face that he immediately tries to hide and fails. Elena watches him try and doesn’t bother hiding her grin.

“I told you it was bad,” she says.

“It’s not bad,” Preston lies. “It’s… assertive.”

“It’s five dollars, York. It’s supposed to taste like regret.”

She sits on the couch, pulls a blanket over her legs, and opens her laptop. The screen glows blue against her face.

I turn off the kitchen light. Preston goes back to bed. The apartment settles.

“Luke,” Elena says, from the dark.

“Yeah.”

“Thanks.”

“Go to sleep, Elena.”

“Your radiator’s broken.”

“It’s not broken. It’s in D minor.”

“That’s not a selling point.”

From the bedroom, Preston’s voice, muffled by the pillow: “I’ve been saying that for a year. Nobody listens to me.”

“Go to sleep, Preston.”

“I’m just saying. I feel validated.”

“Good night, Preston.”

“Good night, Elena. Welcome to the smallest apartment in the Western Hemisphere. The bathroom lock sticks. Jiggle it to the left.”

“Noted.”