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“Every night.” He hands me the first plate, wet, and I catch it before it slips. “It’s meditative.”

“That’s not meditative. That’s a housing problem.”

“Same thing, at scale.”

We fall into a rhythm — him scrubbing, me drying, our elbows finding each other at the sink more than the space actually requires. He flicks water at me once, unrepentant when I glare at him, and I snap the towel back hard enough that he flinches for real.

“Truce,” he says, laughing, hands up, suds dripping off his fingers onto the floor.

“Truce.”

I go back to drying while Wyatt rinses the next plate.

A minute later, he leans over and presses a quick kiss to my temple.

I glance at him. “What?”

“Nothing.”

His mouth twitches, but he goes right back to washing.

I do the same, even though I’m smiling now.

We finish the dishes like that, passing plates back and forth, bumping elbows whenever one of us reaches for something at the same time.

By the time the last pan is in the rack, Pickles has given up hope of anything edible hitting the floor and wandered into the living room.

I’ve spent the last ten minutes wondering what happens when we’re done. Whether we’ll pick up right where we left off.

I really hope we do.

“Movie?” Wyatt asks instead.

I look over at him, surprised. “Oh. Sure.”

There’s no rush, I remind myself. We have the whole evening ahead of us.

His hand settles against my back as we head for the couch.

We’ve barely sat down when Pickles trots past with something gray hanging from his mouth.

I squint at him. “Is that my sock?”

Wyatt looks over. “Yep.”

“Pickles.” I give him my sternest look. “We’ve talked about this. Socks are not toys. Give it back.”

I lean forward and hold out my hand. Pickles stares at me for another second before dropping the sock into my palm.

Wyatt looks genuinely offended. “Are you kidding me?”

“What?”

“He never gives me anything that easily.”

I laugh and toss the sock onto the coffee table, out of Pickles’ reach. “Sorry. He just likes me better.”

Wyatt catches me around the waist before I can settle back, pulling me into his side. “Careful, Brennan.”