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“To be fair, I came prepared with years of experience.”

“Yeah, well,” he starts, “I’m beginning to think I should’ve called you sooner.”

“You called me as soon as you realized you needed help,” I say softly. “And now I'm about to fall asleep standing up, so I'd better go grab my stuff from the car.”

“I’ll grab it,” he suggests, moving toward the front door.

“You don’t have to⁠—”

“I do,” Ollie cuts in.

Before I can argue again, he’s halfway out, leaving me standing with Tilly. “Wait—” I say and hurry after him, handing him the keys. “Don’t forget these.”

He glances down at the keys, flipping them once in his hand, before looking back at me. His brows lift as his thumb brushes over the worn metal, recognition flickering across his face.

“Please tell me you drive an Impala and this isn’t just a random key.”

“’67 in cherry red. Try not to fall in love with her,” I joke.

One corner of his mouth lifts. “No promises.”

“I mean it,” I shoot back, but there’s no real bite to it. “She’s picky about who gets to drive her.”

“Good thing I’m charming,” he mutters, almost to himself, stepping out into the hallway.

“We’ll see about that.”

Tilly lets out a soft coo, like she’s entertained by the exchange, and I peer down at her with a small smile. “Don’t encourage him. He already seems confident enough.”

A few minutes later, the door swings open with a soft thud and Ollie steps inside carrying two of my bags like they weigh nothing. He sets them down near the couch before heading back out, returning shortly after with the rest, including my monstera and a cactus I’ve had since middle school.

“This truly all of it?” he asks, looking at my meager belongings.

“Yeah, that’s everything. I had to leave the rest of my plants behind,” I reply, watching as he straightens up.

He nods and gestures vaguely toward the door with the keys still in his hand. “Who restored your ride? She’s a beauty.”

“My brother and I worked on her for months.”

“Did you upgrade the engine, too?”

“We did,” I say, a hint of pride slipping into my voice.

“Figured as much. Mind if I take a closer look later?”

“Depends. Are you planning to critique our hard work?”

“Occupational hazard,” he deadpans. Then, his expression cracks and we both laugh. “Let me show you where you’ll be staying.”

I follow him, Tilly still tucked securely against me. He stops in front of the last door and pushes it open. “This is all yours.”

The guest room is simple but clean, with a neatly made bed, a small dresser, a built-in closet and a big window that lets in natural light. There’s a faint scent of fresh laundry lingering in the air.

“There are clean towels in the hallway closet. I, uh, made sure there were enough. Tilly’s nursery will be in the room next to yours once we finish the minor renovations. The rooms share a half bath behind that second door,” he points out to our right. “Tilly’s been sleeping in my room until now, but I plan to train her to sleep alone.”

“Makes sense,” I say with a yawn.

“Listen, we don’t have to go over everything tonight. It’s been a long day. Let’s chat more tomorrow morning.”