Cassian frowned.
“That seems unnecessary.”
Maeve threw the plans onto the couch.
Then kissed him.
He caught her automatically.
When they separated, Maeve looked directly at him.
“I want you here.”
His expression softened.
“After day twenty-eight?”
“Yes.”
“After Moonridge is safe?”
“Yes.”
“After the apartments can separate?”
Maeve swallowed.
“Yes.”
Cassian’s hands tightened around her waist.
“Good.”
Maeve smiled.
“Because Gerald is attached to my kitchen window.”
The hearing filled the lobby.
Brightstone sent three lawyers.
Moonridge hated all of them.
The building lowered one lawyer’s chair every time he spoke.
The judge pretended not to notice.
Maeve sat beside Cassian.
Their hands were linked under the table.
Not for the assessor.
Not for the registry.
Because Maeve needed it.
Brightstone argued first.
Their attorney, Mr. Bell, stood.
“The alleged domestic partnership was initiated solely to trigger a statutory exemption.”
The judge looked at Maeve.
“Is that true?”
Maeve swallowed.
“Yes.”
Cassian’s fingers tightened.
Mr. Bell smiled.
“Then the case is straightforward.”
Maeve continued.
“That’s how it started.”
The judge looked interested.
Mr. Bell did not.
Maeve stood.
“I didn’t like him.”
Cassian whispered, “Helpful.”
Maeve ignored him.
“He stole my groceries.”
Mr. Bell blinked.
Maeve pointed at Cassian.
“He dresses like someone died every day.”
“I am a vampire.”
“You own gray.”
“Charcoal.”
The judge coughed to hide a laugh.
Maeve continued.
“He’s controlling.”
“Organized.”
“Annoying.”
“Accurate.”
Maeve looked at him.
Cassian looked back.
She smiled.
“And somewhere between fake dinners and community events and one extremely judgmental gargoyle, I fell in love with him.”
The lobby went silent.
Cassian’s expression changed.
Maeve’s heart hammered.
She hadn’t said it before.
Not exactly.
Not those words.
Cassian stood.
“Maeve.”
She looked at him.
“I love you too.”
Mrs. Davenport screamed.
The judge banged the gavel.
Moonridge rang every bell.
Mr. Bell shouted.
“This is theater.”
Cassian looked at him.
“No.”
He picked up the architecture plans.
“This is evidence.”
The judge examined them.
Cassian explained.
Not the inheritance.
Not his family.
Just the designs.
Plans created voluntarily.
Plans for a future beyond the heritage period.
Maribel testified.
So did the tenants.
Mr. Lin explained Cassian’s greenhouse design.
The Martins described the rehearsal room.
Mrs. Davenport ignored legal advice and gave a six-minute speech about “the way his face changes when she enters a room.”
Maeve wanted to die.
Cassian looked secretly pleased.
Finally the judge turned toward Moonridge’s avatar.
“You are the protected structure.”
“Yes.”
“Do you recognize this household as genuine?”
Moonridge looked at Maeve.
Then Cassian.
Her spectral expression softened.
“Yes.”
The judge nodded.
“Protection granted.”
The lobby exploded.
Maeve screamed.
Mrs. Davenport hugged a lawyer.
Sebastian flew into a chandelier.
Pepper attacked confetti.
Cassian grabbed Maeve around the waist.
She laughed.
“You’re smiling.”
“I know.”
“Publicly.”
“Don’t ruin it.”
He kissed her.
Moonridge dimmed the lights.
Maeve broke away.
“You are obsessed.”
“I MADE THIS HAPPEN.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Absolutely not.”
Cassian kissed her again.
Moonridge played wedding music.
Three months later, Maeve woke to discover Cassian stealing her groceries.
Again.
She stood in the kitchen.
He froze with a strawberry in his hand.
“Seriously?”
Cassian looked at the strawberry.
Then her.
“It looked lonely.”
Maeve crossed her arms.
“You have your own food.”
“I wanted this one.”
“You are a billionaire.”
“Former prospective billionaire.”
“You have money.”
“Yes.”
“Buy strawberries.”
“These are better.”
“Why?”
Cassian smiled.
“Yours.”
Maeve stared.
Then threw a towel at him.
He caught it.
Their apartment had never been separated.
Cassian’s architecture studio occupied the renovated ground-floor suite beside Holloway Remedies.
He restored enchanted buildings.
Maeve interfered professionally.
Moonridge remained alive.
Loudly.
The rooftop greenhouse thrived.
Mrs. Davenport never moved.
The Martin twins did, then returned six weeks later because their new building had “emotionally dead walls.”
Mr. Lin’s mushrooms became mildly famous.
Sebastian grew two inches.
Pepper pretended not to love him.
And Gerald moved into the sunny corner of Maeve’s kitchen, where Cassian insisted the plant received optimal morning light.
One Friday evening, Maeve closed the potion shop.
Cassian waited at the door.
“Dinner?”
“Yes.”
“Market?”
“Yes.”
“Fake date?”
Maeve looked at him.
“It’s been three months.”
“Habit.”
She took his hand.
They walked into the lobby.
Moonridge’s avatar appeared.
“You two are late.”
Maeve groaned.
“For what?”
Moonridge smiled.
“Mandatory community meeting.”
Cassian stopped.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“We saved you.”
“I remain administratively active.”
Maeve laughed.
“What now?”
Moonridge produced a glowing notice.
Maeve read.
Then froze.
Cassian looked over her shoulder.
NOTICE OF DOMESTIC EXPANSION REVIEW.
Maeve frowned.
“What is domestic expansion?”
Moonridge smiled.
From somewhere upstairs came a tiny stone chirp.
Sebastian flew into the lobby.
Behind him came six miniature gargoyles.
Maeve stared.
Cassian stared.
Sebastian landed proudly.
One baby gargoyle sneezed gravel.
Maeve slowly looked at Cassian.
“You said he was male.”
“He is.”
“Then explain that.”
Cassian stared at Sebastian.
“I cannot.”
Moonridge cleared her throat.
“Gargoyles reproduce through architectural resonance.”
Maeve blinked.
“What does that mean?”
“You renovated.”
Cassian closed his eyes.
Maeve started laughing.
One baby gargoyle climbed Cassian’s trouser leg.
Another stole Maeve’s keys.
Pepper sat in the middle of them looking smug.
Moonridge’s avatar smiled.
“Congratulations.”
Cassian looked up.
“Do not say it.”
Moonridge ignored him.
“You’re parents.”
Maeve laughed so hard she had to lean against him.
Cassian stared at the six stone babies destroying the lobby.
Then at Sebastian.
Then at Maeve.
“This building has ruined my life.”
Maeve kissed his cheek.
“You love this building.”
Moonridge flickered happily.
Cassian sighed.
A baby gargoyle climbed onto his shoulder.
He looked at it.
It licked his ear.
Cassian’s face softened.
Maeve smiled.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“Your left eyebrow.”
“It is not twitching.”
“It absolutely is.”
Moonridge turned the lobby lights pink.
Cassian looked upward.
“No.”
A chandelier formed a glowing heart.
Maeve leaned into him.
“Let her have this one.”
Cassian looked down at Maeve.
Then at the chaos around them.
The building.
The gargoyles.
Pepper.
The home he had never expected.
The woman he had never intended to love.
His expression softened.
“Fine.”
Moonridge immediately started playing wedding music.
Cassian closed his eyes.
“I take it back.”
Maeve laughed.
And in Apartment 7B—or 7A, depending on which original floor plan one consulted—Gerald the monstera quietly grew a new leaf.