I raised an eyebrow. “Snacks?”
He produced a small bag of granola bars, baby carrots and crackers from somewhere behind him, like a magician pulling a rabbit from a hat. “Mommy packed them for us.”
I gaped at him. “Oh! That’s, um, very nice.”
Oh God, what was happening here? This was creepy, right?
Eric beamed like he’d just presented me with a Michelin Star meal instead ofbaby carrots.
“Mommy always says you shouldn’t work on an empty stomach,” he added, already moving past me toward the kitchen like he knew where it was.
I stood there for a second, trying to process what the fuck was happening here.
Mommy always says.
“Right,” I said faintly, following him because apparently I had lost all control of my own apartment. “That’s, uh, solid advice.”
Could I just kick him out? Would that be rude?
Eric put the snacks on my already cluttered counter, turned and looked at me.
His gaze raked over me from head to toe, lingering uncomfortably. I shifted under his stare, suddenly hyper-aware of how short my shorts were and the absence of a bra.
Fucking hell.
“You didn’t have to come all the way over here. I mean, you have your mom and everything, and—”
“She said it was important,” he interrupted, acting as if the matter were settled.
“Right.”
“She said when someone is going through a transition, you show up for them. You don’t wait to be asked.”
Something about the way he said it made my stomach do a weird little drop.
“Right,” I said again, because apparently this was the only word I had left. “That’s … verythoughtful.”
“It is,” he agreed, completely serious.
Then he smiled again, too wide.
“Now,” he said, clapping his hands together like we were about to start a team-building exercise, “what’s the system?”
“The system?”
“For packing,” he clarified patiently. “Categories. Priorities. Sentimental versus practical. You can’t just throw things into boxes, Adelaide. It creates disorder.”
I blinked at him. “I’ve been doing okay so far.”
He glanced at the nearest box and his smile faltered.
“Oh no, that won’t do. Don't worry, we’ll fix it,” he said gently.
Everything about this situation was uncomfortable and I had no idea how to get out of it.
“I’m not sure it needs fixing,” I said, stepping between him and the box like I suddenly felt weirdly protective of my own chaotic system.
He tilted his head, studying me likeIwas the confusing one. Then, after a second, he softened again, like he’d consciously adjusted something.