He had a small box in his hand and an expression of open terror that she had never seen on him, not in a hospital corridor, not on a lawn at midnight.

“I’ve done this badly,” he said.

“I’ve thought about it for a long time and there was no version that wasn’t awkward, because I hired you, and then I lied to you for six weeks, and then everything that happened, happened.

And every single thing about this is complicated except the actual question.”

“Harrison—”

“I love you,” he said.

“Leo loves you, which he’ll tell you himself, at length, with citations.

And I would like, very much, if you’d stop being our neighbor.”