The west garden is cooler than the rest of the house, and Drew Covington is already there when you find it, standing at the low stone wall with his sleeves rolled and a silver pen clicking in his fingers, slow, like a clock that is not in a hurry.
"I drew the short straw,"
he says without turning around, and you can hear the smile in it.
"Or I volunteered. Depends who's telling."
He turns, and the late light catches the dark hair that falls over one eye. Naomi has gone upstairs with the others; it is just the two of you, and he does not pretend it isn't.
"I told my father I'd show you the grounds. The truth is I wanted the walk alone with you before the whole house got its opinions in."
He tips his head toward the path and falls in beside you, close enough that his sleeve brushes yours.
"You don't have to perform for them, you know. Landon will be prickly, Tanner will be too much, my father will hover. But I'm the one who read the whole guest list twice, and I've already decided."
He clicks the pen once, stills it, and looks at you.
"I'm on your side. That's not a small thing in this house."