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"I'm aware."

"His penthouse has three bedrooms."

"I'm aware of that too."

"Then why do you keep saying couch?"

"Because saying guest room in my younger brother's penthouse makes me want to drive into the Sound."

Damien laughs.

"Fair," he says. "Although for the record, from the outside, all of this still sounds wildly rich."

Levi picks up another box. "That's because it is wildly rich."

"It is," Damien agrees. "But in a tragic way."

I ignore both of them and cross toward the bedroom for the last armful of clothes.

Easier when I don't look around too much.

The bed is stripped. The closet is half-empty. The bathroom counter is clear except for a razor and a bottle of cologne.

Don't think about Aria in one of my shirts.

Don't think about the way she'd leave her earrings on the counter beside my watch like they'd always been there.

Fuck.

I grab the suits and head back out.

Damien is holding a framed photo now, looking between it and me with open suspicion.

"You were smiling in this," he says.

"I doubt it."

"It's subtle," he says. "But it's there.

You look a little like a serial killer in one of the Netflix docuseries, but technically it’s a smile."

"Thanks asshole," I say.

Levi looks over. "Put that in the keep pile. He'll only pretend he doesn't want it."

I take the frame from Damien before he can study it any longer.

Foundation gala last year. Me in black tie, expression almost human. Everly beside me, radiant and terrifying. Christian in the background looking like he'd rather be in litigation than formalwear.

I set it face down in the box by my feet.

Archer rises from the floor with a coil of cords in one hand. "This goes where?"

"Whichever box you hate least."

He nods once and carries it off.

Levi watches him go, then glances back at me. "Did Jeremy take it hard when he found out you got fired?"