Leonard stood in front of the full-length mirror near his closet, whistling softly—low and tuneless, more habit than melody. A crisp white shirt stretched snug across his shoulders, tucked neatly into tailored black slacks. He rolled his tie between his fingers before looping it around his collar and knotting it with practiced ease.
It wasn't a penthouse. Not even close. No marble countertops or private elevators. The bathroom light flickered if he turned it on too fast. The heater groaned like an old man during the night. But he looked around and, for once, didn't mind the imperfections. If being here meant seeing the twins every day and maybe, just maybe, getting a bit closer to Katherine again—then this place was perfect.
