By the Book

Chapter Forty-Seven: From the Heart

The apartment was quiet, save for the occasional creak of the floorboards beneath Tyler's pacing and the soft rustle of papers spread out on the coffee table. The sun had dipped below the horizon hours ago, casting the room in the muted glow of a single lamp perched on the end table. My living room was a mess of notepads, sticky notes, and scattered folders—an impromptu war room for funeral planning.

Tyler was focused, his expression tight with concentration as he scrawled something on a notepad. I sat on the couch, my knees pulled to my chest, my laptop balanced precariously on the armrest. Miles was in the kitchen, quietly rinsing out mugs from the coffee we'd barely touched.

It felt... surreal, having him here. Just last night, I didn't know if I could face him again, and now he was standing a few feet away, as though he'd never left. The tension between us had shifted, softened, but it hadn't disappeared entirely. I was still raw, still figuring out how to let him in again without losing myself in the process.

"You're going to wear a hole in the floor," Miles said lightly, glancing over his shoulder at Tyler.

Tyler snorted, pausing mid-step. "It helps me think." He dropped onto the armchair with a sigh, tossing the notepad onto the coffee table. His eyes darted to Miles, then to me, and I caught the faintest glimmer of approval in his expression.

"I've got the logistics down for the service," Tyler said, his tone matter-of-fact. "Ben's taking care of the flowers with Aunt Lisa tomorrow, and Mom signed off on the guest list this morning."

I nodded, my fingers idly tapping against the keyboard as I scrolled through funeral home invoices. "Did you confirm the catering?"

"Done," Tyler said, leaning back in the chair and rubbing his temple. "Mom finally decided on a menu. She only cried once during the call, so... progress, I guess."

The ache in my chest tightened at the thought of her. Mom hadn't been herself since Dad passed, and while Ben had stepped in to stay with her, it was clear she was barely holding it together.

"That's good," I said softly, though the words felt hollow.

Tyler's gaze flicked back to Miles, who had finished in the kitchen and was now leaning against the counter, arms crossed. "Glad to see you finally came around," Tyler said, his tone casual but edged with something deeper.

Miles straightened slightly, his expression unreadable. "I'm glad I did, too."

The weight of his presence was still new, but Tyler didn't seem fazed. It was as though he'd expected Miles to step back into our lives eventually, as though this was just the natural order of things. I envied his ease, his ability to move forward without the same hesitation that held me back.

Tyler leaned against the table, flipping through one of the folders, but his gaze darted up at Miles. A faint smirk tugged at his lips, one that hinted at something unspoken. "You know," he said casually, "for a guy who's supposed to be brilliant, you can be pretty dense."

Miles raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quirking in response. "Not everyone can be as wise as the man who stormed into my flat, yelling about marmalade, of all things."

Tyler barked out a laugh, and I froze mid-typing on my laptop. I leaned back on the couch, crossing my arms, my curiosity piqued. "'Marmalade?'" I echoed, my tone skeptical. "Okay, what's this about? What exactly was said that night?"

Tyler glanced at me, clearly amused, while Miles rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly looking sheepish. "It's nothing," Miles said quickly, his voice tinged with embarrassment. "Just... a misunderstanding."

"Oh, no," I said, leaning forward slightly, my tone firm. "You don't get to drop something like that and not explain. I want details. Now."

Tyler grinned, clearly enjoying himself, and tossed the folder back onto the table. "Alright, fine. Since he won't tell you, I will." He turned to face me, his eyes practically sparkling with glee. "It was right after Christmas. You were upset, and I decided to—let's call it strongly encourage—Miles to stop being an idiot."