Taking Talia to his apartment felt like stepping into a life he barely recognized. The penthouse was pristine, modern, spotless. It also felt like a museum of someone pretending not to be lonely. Talia stood in the middle of his living room, her backpack still on her shoulders, her eyes wide.
“I feel small in a place like this,” she whispered shyly.
“Everyone feels small somewhere,” Grayson said. “We will make it feel less strange.”
That night, she refused the towering guest bed, overwhelmed by its size. So he built a cozy nest of blankets on the floor, arranging pillows like a nest for a bird. Talia crawled inside, yawned, and blinked up at him.
“Can you stay until I fall asleep?” she asked. “New places can feel scary.”
Grayson hesitated only a moment. He sat beside her, leaning against the bed. Talia took his hand like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“My mom sings when I sleep,” she murmured. “I know you do not know the songs, but…”