One day, Trent answered a knock at Cygnet's door. Standing there was an older man, maybe early to mid-forties, dressed all in black with a tee over mesh sleeves. Clarence's father, Trent guessed. He put on a bright smile and invited the older man in. It didn't take long for him to regret it; there was an odd sort of tension between this man and Cygnet. Trent should have been somewhat prepared for this after what he had read in her diary, but it shocked him nonetheless.

"This is unexpected," Cygnet remarked, gesturing for her father-in-law to sit in the recliner. "I thought you were still traveling."

"There are some things I missed about being home. You seem to be doing well for yourself," the man said, a threat in his voice. He stepped close to Cygnet, too close. She closed her eyes briefly, then looked up at him, something very like defiance on her face.

"Trent Maddock, this is my father-in-law, James Dryderin. James, this is our friend. He helps us out around the house sometimes."

"I'm sure he does," James Dryderin said, his voice falsely amiable as he shook Trent's hand. Trent did not like this man—he was that James, the one Cygnet and Yamazaki had discussed in the park the day Trent had first seen her. He sat down in the guest chair and pretended to scroll through his phone as he observed them.

Mr. Dryderin cupped Cygnet's hips and murmured, "Interesting how you haven't bothered getting back into shape since the baby. Clarence doesn't mind having the stereotypical chubby first wife?"

"Let's wake him up and ask him," she suggested flatly. "Where's your fiancée?"

"We broke up. She tried to stab me."

"I'm sure you deserved it."

Trent was taken aback. This wasn't the warm, sweet Cygnet he knew. But he had to agree with the sentiment.

"Oh, I deserve a lot more than that," the older man murmured, bringing his face close to hers and tipping her chin up with one hand.

She pulled away roughly and backhanded him. "Looks like you're going to have to settle," she snapped. "Story of your life. I'll go wake up Clarence and Elior. Go make yourself a cheese plate or something." And she stalked off to the bedroom.

Mr. Dryderin smirked as he rubbed his cheek. "She's changed," he remarked, presumably to Trent. "Used to be all over me. Did you know she once tried to fuck me?"

"Yes," Trent said, just the right amount of irony in his voice. "She wrote all about it in her diary."

"Funny." Mr. Dryderin was deadpan.

"But it looks to me like you are the one trying to seduce her." Trent was sure distaste showed on his face plain as day.

"Best defense is a good offense," the older man replied smoothly. "Besides, if she's keeping someone with your looks around, she can't be that interested in loyalty to my son."

Trent blinked. Obviously Mr. Dryderin saw him as a threat somehow, but he didn't really seem to mind. In fact, something in his voice sounded… gleeful? He knew Mr. Dryderin had never approved of Cygnet, and that she had indeed tried to seduce him—as a power play. He hadn't gone for it; Cygnet's diary claimed he was the first person to ever turn her down, and it had sent her into a tailspin of increasingly bizarre decisions.

"You shouldn't lead her on if you have no intention of follow-through," he blurted out, knowing full well that was beside the point.

Mr. Dryderin chortled mirthlessly. "So, you help out around the house. Do they pay you for it, or is it just out of the goodness of your heart?" Something in his gaze seemed like he saw right through Trent, knew what Trent wanted and how far he might go to achieve it. Trent suppressed a shudder, but before he could answer, Cygnet returned with Clarence and Elior.

"Let's get out of here," she muttered to Trent. Then, to the other men, "We'll let you catch up."

Once they were out of the apartment, it was like all the tension and bad vibes left her body. She beamed at him and grabbed his arm as they walked down the stairs. He couldn't help but beam back. His arm felt warm, a tingling bubbling through to the rest of his body, which happened every time she touched him.

"So sorry about him," she said airily, waving her free hand. "He's… yeah."

"Old lion threatened by the younger, stronger cats?"

She looked up at him approvingly. "Exactly. But I mean, I did ask him out after one of Clarence's and my breakups. Acting like that in front of company, though, it's out of line."

"It is," Trent agreed. "It's like he's leading you on to provoke you into responding, and if you went for it, he'd laugh in your face." He couldn't keep the pain out of his voice; this was a subject that hit close to home for him. "No one should ever…"

"Agreed," Cygnet said solemnly. "And I mean, on the one hand, I know it wouldn't have worked out between us, like, for real. But on the other hand, it sucks when someone turns you down and you see them perfectly willing to, like, throw themselves at everyone else within a five-mile radius."

"Right?"

"Yeah, man. Some people are just so inconsiderate."

Trent had never thought about it that way. Yes, Rebecca had been inconsiderate of his feelings: she had asked him to have sex with her knowing full well how he felt about her; she had accepted other favors from him; yet when it came down to it, she had wanted nothing to do with him beyond what she could use him for, but she had been perfectly willing to throw herself at four or five other guys. She had said some cruel things when she rebuffed him, but Cygnet's comment made him think maybe it hadn't been about him after all.

Cygnet suddenly stopped walking and turned to face him. She cupped his cheek with her free hand and, with her thumb, gently wiped away a tear he hadn't felt fall. "Are you okay?" she asked softly. "Do you want to talk about it?"

They walked to Whole Foods, just a mile down the way, and she listened attentively and empathetically as he told her about Rebecca. At first he just mentioned how he'd felt used and tossed aside by her, but with Cygnet's gentle encouragement, he wound up telling her everything, starting from the first day he'd seen Rebecca at Harvard. Cygnet had experience with love at first sight, with obsession, with intensive research of an individual, with all of it. It was what her music was about; it was part of the reason she'd chosen to keep her band underground and start her own label. Still, art could be misleading about the artist, and he was pleasantly surprised that she was as understanding as he had hoped.

They bought samosas, baklava, and coconut water and sat outside on the patio, continuing to discuss his love life as they munched. A couple times, he broke down crying; she sat beside him the first time and kept her hand on his back, rubbing gently to soothe him. The second time, she started crying softly with him. She knelt up on the bench and wrapped her arms around him protectively, rocking him slightly, the way he had seen her rock Elior.

"It's okay, sweetheart," she whispered through her own tears. "Everything is going to be okay."

"Thank you," he choked out. "I love you."

And then he froze. That was a mistake. Why had he said that? It was true, but why couldn't he keep it to himself? Cygnet was going to run away now, was going to push him away and scream at him that they could never be together, what was he thinking, she had a family—

She was unfazed, though. She stroked his hair and continued to rock him gently, which made him cry a little more, tears of relief that she wasn't pushing him away or decrying his weirdness. She didn't tell him she loved him too, but she did sit down and kiss his cheek after he'd calmed down a bit. That warmth spread through his body again, radiating from his cheek, and he couldn't help but smile.

"Let's rest here for a little bit," she suggested. "I don't really feel like going back yet."