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“Good to know—I’ll grab more options the next time I go grocery shopping, but I should have some tea left.”

The comment is so simple and casual, but it still catches me off guard. Why is my first thought Nathan would’ve never said something like that?

Ollie, meanwhile, moves around the kitchen like making space for someone else in his life is the most natural thing in the world. He fills the electric kettle and switches it on before pulling a box of green tea from the cabinet.

“It’s the only tea I have,” he says, handing me a ceramic mug while I wait for the water to boil.

I turn it over in my hands, tracing the delicate waves painted around the cream-colored ceramic. “It’s so pretty.”

Ollie only hums in reply. The kettle clicks a moment later. I drop the tea bag into the mug while Ollie reaches for a tall glass, the ice clinking against the sides as he fills it before pouring in the coffee. A splash of sugar-free vanilla syrup follows. We stand shoulder to shoulder, each focused on our own drink. I wrap my hands around the warm mug, surprised by how much I enjoy not feeling like I have to fill the quiet.

With our drinks finished, I carry my tea and the plates to the small table tucked next to the wall between the living room and the kitchen. Tilly rests in a bouncer, looking impossibly cute as Ollie follows with his coffee and lowers himself into the chair across from me.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” Ollie says, eyeing the meal in front of him.

“I know, but I wanted to.”

For a second, something unreadable passes over his face before he clears his throat and reaches for a fork. “Right. Better eat before the food gets cold.”

We eat quietly for a few minutes, the kind of silence that feels easy instead of awkward. Every now and then, Tilly makes content noises, and each one seems to pull Ollie’s attention toward her. It’s sweet to watch them interact.

“We should probably talk about schedules and all that,” I say eventually, setting the cup down.

“I usually work six days a week. Fridays are technically my day off, but the shop’s downstairs, so sometimes I still end up there for a bit.”

“So you’re one of those people who claims they’re not working while actively working.”

His mouth twitches. “Pretty much.”

“What are your actual hours?”

“Normally eight to six.” He pauses before adding, “More realistically, closer to seven or eight some nights.”

I nod slowly, mentally putting the schedule together while Tilly kicks her legs in the bouncer beside us. “That’s manageable, especially with her sleeping a lot during the day.”

Ollie studies me over the rim of his glass. “You say that way too confidently.”

“I’ve worked with twins before. One baby doesn’t scare me.”

“You say that now,” he mutters dryly, taking a sip of his drink.

“Ask me again after my first diaper blowout.”

Ollie chokes on his coffee a little, coughing into his fist while I try and fail to hold back my laughter. “Anyway,” I continue once he recovers, “I can start around seven thirty every morning. I’m happy to handle daytime care and most bedtimes during the week if needed.”

His brows pull together. “That feels like a lot.”

I shake my head and reach for my tea. “It’s really not. I function better when I’m busy.”

The words leave my mouth easily, but they land heavy inside me. Keeping moving has always been easier than sitting still long enough for my thoughts to catch up with me. Ollie studies me like he senses there’s more behind the comment, but thankfully, he doesn’t push.

“And Fridays?” he asks instead.

I tuck one leg beneath myself in the chair. “You’re off work, so we can play those by ear. I’d like some time to explore the city. Rose already warned me she plans on dragging me out for girls’ nights.”

“Good, you should do that. They’re a lot of fun to be around.”

There’s sincerity in the way he says it, like he genuinely wants me to have a life outside this apartment. “If you ever need evenings off or anything, we’ll figure the timing out,” he adds, bouncing Tilly when she starts wiggling.