Nanami had always been composed—unshakable. That was part of why your arrangement worked so well.

But tonight, at the dimly lit bar, you caught the slightest shift in him. You were leaning over the counter, laughing at something a younger coworker said, when you felt a warm hand on the small of your back.

“Ready to go?” Nanami’s voice was low, polite, but his grip said now.