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I’m reaching for my bag and fighting another yawn when someone pounds on the front door.

“I’ll get it,” I call toward the kitchen, already moving toward the door.

The second I swing it open, there’s a grin waiting for me.

“Hello there, gorgeous,” Julian says, dimples on full display like he knows they’re his greatest weapon. “Said I’d knock this time. I value my life.”

“You.” I glance back into the house. “Wes! The strange man is here again.”

Julian clutches his chest in mock offense.

I’m sticking my tongue out like a child when I catch movement behind him.

A couple is strolling up the path with arms full of pizza boxes and beer. The woman’s blonde hair is pulled back in a high ponytail, her oversized hoodie half-swallowed by the stack of food she balances like a pro. She’s all long legs and easy confidence, calling something over her shoulder as she climbs the steps. The man beside her has the same build as Wes, but where Wes is all quiet scowl and tight control in jeans and a t-shirt, this guy does it in suit pants and a shirt.

Wes peeks his head out of the kitchen with a towel slung over his shoulder, confusion plastered across his face. “What the hell?”

“Happy birthday!” the three of them shout in unison.

My head snaps toward him so fast I almost givemyself whiplash. “It’s your birthday?”

He rubs the back of his neck, already annoyed by the attention. “It’s just another day.”

Just another day. Right.

I shoot him a glare that could boil water because I would’ve had Rosie draw him something, or scribble on a card, or at the very least, hand him a cupcake with one of those sparkler candles. But he didn’t say a word.

“Don’t worry, Lena,” Julian says, breezing past me with his usual lack of boundaries. “It’s not just you. Wes doesn’t do birthdays. Or joy. Or any emotion that isn’t mild irritation.”

I snort despite myself, even though I’m still mentally stabbing Wes with a plastic fork.

That’s when he gestures toward the couple. “This is Nathan and Sienna.”

Sienna gives me a warm grin. “I’ve heard lots about you. Mostly, how you nearly murdered Julian with a frying pan. I already like you.”

Heat floods my face. “It wasn’t my finest moment.”

They all pile into the kitchen while I hover by the door, still mentally clocking out.

Wes slips past me.

“Happy birthday,” I say quietly.

He squeezes my shoulder, sayingThanksin that silent way of his.

I reach for my bag again when Sienna notices and steps into my path like a very polite wall.

“Where are you going?”

I hook a thumb over my shoulder, but I’m suddenly not sure where I was going because she’s very close. “I was heading out.”

“Have you got plans?”

“No,” I answer slowly, glancing around the kitchenwhere Julian’s already helping himself to pizza and Nathan’s got Rosie on his hip like she’s been his for years.

“Great,” Sienna says, beaming. “Then you’re staying.”

“I—wait, what?”