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I turn.

Of course. Darcy is curled into the leather chair beside the windows, looking like we've interrupted something important.

“You've gotta be kidding me.”

Laney laughs.

“What?”

I point toward the chair. “Your cat.”

She follows my gaze.

“Oh, Darcy.”

The little asshole blinks at us. I cross the room and scoop him up.

“Sorry, buddy. You're gonna have to find somewhere else to sleep tonight.”

He makes an indignant noise.

“Yeah, I know. Terrible inconvenience.”

I carry him toward the door. “Go destroy your mom's sheets or something.”

“Bishop!”

I set him in the hallway, but he immediately turns around.

“Nope.” I gently block his attempt to reenter. “Grown-up time, pal.”

Laney bursts out laughing as I close the door. Then the latch clicks.

And the laughter stops.

And suddenly I'm aware of exactly how different this is from the kitchen.

Or the couch.

Or that night in my Rover.

There's a closed door between us and the rest of the apartment—a bed behind me. And absolutely nothing stopping us except the choices we make, not even a grumpy cat.

“Hey.” I cross the room slowly.

She watches me approach.

“You okay?”

She nods. “Yeah.”

I stop in front of her. “We don't have to do anything tonight.”

“I know.”

“I'm serious, Becks.”

“I know you are.”