Love In A Heartbeat: Mini Love Stories

Love in a Heartbeat is a monthly collection of sweet, bite-sized romances, ranging from short stories to novelettes. Each month, a new shorty explores the many facets of love in a way that’s heartwarming and engaging—perfect for a quick escape into romance, no matter the length.

A Diva Cats and Cheap Bubbly is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Copyright © 2025 by Mina Beckett

Published by: CurtissLynn Publishing

Cover design: Shiver Shot Designs

No part of this work may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations, reviews, and articles.

When Jemma’s mischievous cat locks her out of her apartment—and her handsome neighbor Theo’s—her quiet New Year’s Eve plans take an unexpected turn.

Stranded in the hallway with bunny slippers, cheap champagne, and a growing attraction to the charming Theo, Jemma’s night quickly shifts from predictable to anything but. As they swap stories, chocolates, and secrets under the dim glow of the hallway lights, sparks fly, and Jemma finds herself wondering if this could be more than just a one-night mishap.

But can two people with guarded hearts take a chance on something that feels so right? With fireworks lighting up the night sky and a kiss to ring in the new year, Jemma and Theo might just find that the best beginnings happen when you least expect them.

Diva cats, hilarious neighbors, and a romantic twist you won’t see coming—this is one New Year’s Eve worth staying up for!

Jemma checked her phone app for the delivery update, hoping the anticipation of her incoming order would feel at least a little like the buzz she wasn’t getting tonight. The app confirmed it: her cheap champagne and chocolates had finally arrived from the all-night store down the street. At eleven-fifteen on New Year’s Eve, this was her last-ditch attempt at crafting a pity-party snack lineup. And honestly? She’d outdone herself. It was perfect for the evening’s festivities, which featured herself, her cat Mochi, and a queue of rom-coms guaranteed to make her feel some type of way about life and love. Mostly bitter.

“Cheers to rock bottom,” she muttered as she shuffled toward the door in her fluffiest bunny-eared slippers. Mochi, her furry partner in crime, followed along, offering a meow that sounded suspiciously judgmental. Or maybe it was solidarity. Hard to say. Either way, he was her most reliable date these days, even if he did seem more invested in the grocery bags than her well-being.

This wasn’t Jemma’s first trip around the single-girl-on-a-holiday block. Oh, no. Christmas had been a new low. She’d been so desperate to avoid her family’s relentless are you seeing anyone? questions that she’d paid the mailroom guy at work—paid him—fifty bucks to pretend to be her boyfriend at dinner. Pete, the so-called savior of her dignity, had shown up in a blinking reindeer tie, promptly asked her dad for advice on crypto investments, and, to top it off, tried to barter his dessert for a signed photo of her uncle, who did the weather on the local news.

It had been… humiliating. Her mom had pulled her aside in the kitchen and handed her a slice of pie with a sympathetic look that somehow managed to be both comforting and condemning. “You don’t have to hire love, sweetheart. You just have to stop picking men like Pete,” she’d said. And Jemma’s little brother? Oh, he’d taken the opportunity to roast her for weeks, complete with a $20 dating app gift card as his Christmas gift to her.

She’d sworn off it all right then and there, somewhere between bites of pecan pie and sheer mortification. No more fake boyfriends. No more real boyfriends who made her want to fake a coma to escape their company.

So when her best friend Marci had called that afternoon begging her to go to a fancy New Year’s Eve party at the plaza, Jemma had been firm. Hard pass. She wasn’t about to show up as the only single person, dodging drunk couples trying to set her up with someone’s “funny” coworker or twice-divorced cousin. Been there, done that, and had the emotional scars to prove it.

This year, she wasn’t going to force it. No awkward conversations. No subpar small talk. Just her, Mochi, cheap champagne, and a love story someone else had to live through.

With that resolution in mind, she opened her apartment door and bent down to grab the delivery bag. She was just reaching for it when Mochi—her dependable, supportive cat—decided to stage a jailbreak.

“Mochi!” Jemma shouted, lunging forward as the little menace darted between her legs and out into the hallway. Her attempt to grab him was thwarted when her toe caught on something—her grocery store delivery. “Blast it!”

The bag of cheap champagne and chocolates sat innocently in her path, and she stumbled, barely managing to keep herself upright. The commotion caused her apartment door to swing shut behind her with an ominous click.

She froze, slowly turning to see the door now firmly closed. “Oh, no,” she groaned, jiggling the knob. Locked. Of course it was locked. “Perfect. Absolutely perfect.”

A panicked glance toward the hallway revealed Mochi halfway down the corridor, tail swishing in victory. “Blast it! Get back here!” she hissed, but her furry traitor didn’t even look back.

With a frustrated sigh, Jemma snatched up the bag of snacks she’d planned to wallow with and hurried after her cat, muttering under her breath about loyalty and why cats were, without a doubt, the worst. “I should’ve gotten a goldfish. They don’t pull stunts like this.”

Mochi, predictably, ignored her entirely. Instead, he made a beeline for the one door she absolutely did not want him near tonight: Theo’s.

Naturally. Because why wouldn’t her runaway cat head straight for the apartment of her impossibly attractive neighbor—the one who made forming coherent sentences feel like a superhuman feat?

Jemma picked up her pace, her bunny slippers flopping noisily against the hallway floor. She wasn’t entirely sure what her plan was—probably scoop up Mochi and then awkwardly hang around her locked apartment until she could figure out how to call maintenance. Preferably without anyone seeing her standing there in skimpy pajamas and cartoonish footwear. And if she could somehow avoid mortifying herself further, that would be great too.

But then, just as she reached Theo’s door, it swung open, and all thoughts of a plan evaporated.

There he was. Theo, the man who had been quietly disrupting her peace of mind since he’d moved in a few months ago. He was already something of a local legend in the building—handsome, impeccably dressed, and cloaked in a kind of mysterious cool that made everyone curious. He was the sort of man who could make people drop their grocery bags with one well-placed smile, and Jemma might have been guilty of staring a little too long in the elevator—or inhaling a little too deeply whenever his cologne lingered in the hallway. Not that it mattered now.

Standing in the doorway, Theo looked both effortlessly sharp and annoyingly relaxed, like he was halfway between charming dinner guest and pajama-clad recluse. His broad shoulders filled out a tailored black tuxedo jacket, the crisp white dress shirt underneath unbuttoned just enough to suggest he hadn’t fully committed to New Year’s Eve plans yet. And… socked feet. The contrast was oddly endearing.

Jemma froze, her heart thudding against her ribs as her eyes locked onto his. For a moment, she almost forgot why she was standing there. Then, with a streak of gray fur and a decisive whoosh, Mochi darted right past Theo and into the apartment.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Jemma muttered, horror sinking in as she stared at the open doorway.

Theo blinked, glancing between her and the cat now making itself at home on his couch. “Hello to you too,” he said, the corner of his mouth quirking into a bemused smile. His deep voice smooth but tinged with mild amusement.

She groaned inwardly. This night was going downhill fast. “Sorry,” she said, panting slightly from the sprint and the situation. “Mochi! Get out of there!” she hissed, but the cat just sat there, purring like this was the plan all along.

Theo arched a brow, his honey-flecked brown eyes glinting with amusement. “Friend of yours?” he asked, that slight, crooked smile appearing—the one that made Jemma’s brain immediately start buffering.

“Not at the moment,” she muttered, her cheeks heating as she realized she was still in bunny slippers and clutching a grocery bag like her life depended on it.

Great. So much for a quiet New Year’s.

Theo leaned against the doorframe, trying his best not to stare too obviously at the vision of chaos and beauty standing in front of him. Jemma Harper, his neighbor who somehow managed to be simultaneously the most gorgeous woman he’d ever seen and the most adorable disaster, was huffing and puffing like she’d just run a marathon. A marathon in… pink pajama shorts, a matching tank top that left just enough to the imagination, and those ridiculous bunny slippers with the floppy ears.

He cleared his throat, mostly to keep himself from laughing or saying something stupid. “So, I take it Mochi belongs to you?” he asked, nodding toward the smug little furball now lounging like royalty on his couch.

She glanced down at her bunny-clad feet, probably realizing just how unprepared she was for this interaction. Her cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink that only made her look more beautiful, if that was even possible. “Unfortunately,” she muttered, tucking a strand of messy blonde hair behind her ear. Her hair looked like she’d just rolled out of bed—or, in this case, maybe off the couch—but instead of messy in a bad way, it was the kind of messy that belonged in magazine spreads titled Effortless Beauty.

Theo tried not to let his eyes linger too long on her long legs or the way those skimpy shorts did absolutely nothing to calm the male part of his brain. God, she was gorgeous. The kind of gorgeous that didn’t need makeup or filters or any of that stuff Isabella used to swear by. Nope, Jemma was natural, and it was almost unfair how stunning she was without trying.

He scratched the back of his neck, feeling the familiar pang of guilt creep up his spine. Before Isabella and… all that, he wouldn’t have hesitated to ask Jemma out. Hell, he would’ve already knocked on her door with some half-baked excuse about borrowing sugar or needing her opinion on paint samples. But things were different now. His pride and his trust in people had both taken serious hits, and he wasn’t exactly sure how to dive back into the dating pool—especially not with someone like Jemma, who had forever written all over her.

And yet, he couldn’t stop watching her. Couldn’t stop noticing how those gem-like blue eyes darted between him and the cat, like she was plotting her next move. Couldn’t stop his brain from doing weird things whenever she was around, like making his stomach flip or his thoughts stray into territory they had no business being in.

It didn’t help that she had this way of looking at him when she thought he wasn’t paying attention. Like now, for instance. Her gaze darted up to his face, lingered for just a second too long, and then snapped back to Mochi like she’d been caught stealing second base. His male pride—and other parts of him—definitely noticed.

“Uh, sorry about him,” she was saying, her voice a mix of flustered and apologetic. “He’s usually… well, okay, he’s never behaved, but this is a new low, even for him.”

Theo smirked. God, she was cute when she rambled. “It’s fine,” he said, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorjamb, trying to seem casual even though his pulse was doing double-time. “He seems to like the couch. Can’t blame him—it’s a nice spot.”

Her lips parted, and for a split second, he thought she might smile or laugh, but instead, she shot him an exasperated look. “Don’t encourage him. He’s already too full of himself.”

Theo chuckled, his gaze drifting to Mochi, who was now sprawled on his pillow like a tiny king surveying his kingdom. “Smart cat. He’s already claimed the throne.”

Jemma let out a frustrated sigh, one hand firmly planted on her hip in a way that was both exasperated and, to Theo’s chagrin, distracting. He tried to focus on her face instead, which wasn’t much better. Those high cheekbones and full lips had a way of pulling his attention no matter how hard he fought it, and the way her blue eyes narrowed in annoyance only made her look more endearing.

“Alright, Mochi,” she said, her voice firm but weary. “Time to stop being a diva and come here.”

To Theo’s surprise—and apparently Jemma’s too—the cat actually seemed to listen. Mochi blinked once, slow and deliberate, as if weighing his options. Then, with the exaggerated nonchalance of someone who believed the world revolved around him, he hopped off the couch.

Theo watched, intrigued, as Mochi took a few measured steps across the floor before stopping dead in his tracks. The little gray menace sat down, perfectly poised, and locked eyes with Jemma in a way that could only be described as calculated.

Jemma stiffened beside him, narrowing her eyes like she knew exactly what was about to happen. “Don’t you dare,” she warned, her voice sharp and loaded with suspicion.

Theo glanced between them, baffled. Was this… some kind of standoff? He wasn’t entirely sure what was happening, but Mochi seemed to be enjoying the drama. The cat let out a single, pointed meow, the sound dripping with defiance.

“Don’t you—” Jemma started, but before she could finish, Mochi shot forward like a tiny gray missile, heading straight for the open door.

Theo blinked, stunned, as Jemma lunged after him, shouting, “No!”

All Theo could do was watch the pandemonium unfold, feeling a mix of amusement and sheer disbelief. He might not have known what Mochi’s grand plan was, but one thing was clear: this cat was running the show.

“Mochi, wait!” Jemma cried, lunging forward.

But it was too late. The cat streaked past Theo, darting between his feet with the precision of a heat-seeking missile, and knocked him slightly off balance. Theo stumbled forward, his arms instinctively shooting out for something—anything—to steady himself. Unfortunately, the only thing within reach was Jemma, who had lunged toward the door at the exact same moment.

The result was a spectacular collision. The bag she was holding fell to the floor with a thud as

Theo’s chest collided with Jemma’s nose, eliciting a surprised “Oof!” from both of them as she staggered back. In a desperate attempt to keep her upright, his hands landed on her shoulders while her hands pressed against his chest to regain her balance. For a heartbeat, they were frozen in awkward, breathless proximity, her face inches from his.

Her hands gripped his forearms, her touch light but grounding, and he realized just how fast his heart was racing. Their faces were inches apart, so close he could see the faint flecks of silver-blue in her stunning eyes. Her breath came fast, brushing against his cheek, and for a split second, he couldn’t think. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t do anything but drink her in.

Her smaller frame pressed against his, soft and warm, and for a moment, all he could focus on was how impossibly close they were. She was breathtaking. Her messy hair, the faint flush on her cheeks, those full lips slightly parted—it was all too much. His gaze dipped to her mouth before he could stop himself, and something in her expression shifted. Her lips parted further, just barely, and he swore the whole world had stopped spinning.

Theo’s mouth opened and closed without a single syllable because he was still reeling from the near kiss. He swallowed hard. “Are you okay?” he finally asked, his voice tinged with concern as he steadied her.

Jemma blinked up at him, her cheeks flushed. “I’m fine. I think,” she said, touching her nose gingerly and wincing slightly.

He frowned, his hands lingering near her shoulders as he took a closer look. “You sure? That sounded like a pretty solid bump.”

“I’ll live,” she replied with a sheepish laugh, though her gaze darted toward the door.

The click of the closing door pulled their attention away from awkwardness, and they both turned just in time to hear the lock engage.

“Oh, no,” she breathed, her voice soft and breathless in a way that made his stomach tighten. “Please tell me your door doesn’t automatically lock.”

He reached for the handle and gave it a futile jiggle. “Yep. It does.”

She pressed her palm against her forehead. “Perfect. Now we’re both locked out, Mochi’s in there acting like he owns the place, and I might have a broken nose to top it all off.”

Theo’s expression softened as he leaned slightly closer. “Let me see,” he said, his voice low and calm.

Jemma hesitated, but his gentle insistence won out. She tilted her face up slightly, and Theo examined her nose with surprising care. “No swelling,” he said after a moment. “Might just be a little sore.”

She let out a shaky laugh. “Guess that’s what I get for being on the receiving end of a spectacular collision.”

Theo grinned, stepping back just enough to give her space while still holding her gaze. “For what it’s worth, you’re handling it like a champ.”

She rolled her eyes, but the hint of a smile tugged at her lips. “Well, it’s not like I had much choice.”

From inside the apartment, Mochi let out a triumphant meow, and Theo couldn’t help but laugh. “I think your cat just declared victory.”

“Of course he did,” Jemma muttered, her tone edged with frustration.

Theo chuckled softly, but the sound died quickly, leaving an unexpected and uncomfortable silence between them. He watched her closely, noticing the way her expression shifted. Moments ago, she’d been laughing and teasing, her sparkling personality lighting up the dim hallway. Now, though, there was something different—something tense.

She stepped back suddenly, twisting out of his hold like his touch had startled her. The abruptness of it caught him off guard. Her movements were jerky, uncoordinated, a stark contrast to the confident, quick-witted woman he’d been getting to know.

“I can’t believe this,” she blurted out, her voice louder than before. “I’m in bunny slippers, I don’t have my keys, or my phone, and my cat just locked us out of both our apartments.” She let out a laugh, but it wasn’t the warm, easy sound he’d grown to like. This one was sharp, almost brittle, and it made him frown.

“Happy New Year, right?” she added, throwing her hands up in the air in exasperation.

Theo stayed quiet, his gaze fixed on her. Something had changed, and he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. The playful energy between them had shifted into something heavier, something charged. She wasn’t looking at him now, instead fidgeting with the hem of her pajama top, her movements almost nervous.

He could see the tension in the set of her shoulders and the way her jaw tightened as if she was trying to hold something back. This wasn’t just frustration about the situation. There was something else—something deeper—that had her so rattled.

He opened his mouth to say something, but hesitated, not wanting to push too hard or make her more uncomfortable. Instead, he leaned casually against the wall, giving her space while he tried to figure her out.

Her sudden shift wasn’t anger, he realized. It was something closer to fear, though not the kind that came with danger. It was something more personal, more vulnerable. And that made him stay patient, giving her the time she seemed to need.

But the silence stretched on, and as she shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, Theo felt the urge to break it. To ease the tension, to bring back the warmth they’d shared just minutes ago. Whatever was going on in her head, he wasn’t about to let it ruin what had been shaping up to be a surprisingly great night.

The cat meowed again.

Theo couldn’t help it—he laughed. A deep, genuine laugh that echoed through the hallway and had Jemma staring at him like he’d lost it. “Sorry,” he said, still grinning. “It’s just… you couldn’t make this stuff up. I’m beginning to think Mochi planned all of this.”

“Great,” she muttered, crossing her arms over her chest. “My cat’s a diabolical genius, and now I’m stuck in the hallway with…” She trailed off, biting her lip as her eyes flicked up to meet his. “You.”

Her tone wasn’t unkind, but it wasn’t exactly enthusiastic, either. Theo tilted his head, raising a brow. “Careful. You’re starting to sound like that’s a bad thing.”

She opened her mouth to reply, then seemed to think better of it. Instead, she sighed again and leaned back against the wall. “It’s not a bad thing,” she admitted. “It’s just… embarrassing.”

He stepped closer, his hands in his pockets, trying not to make her more uncomfortable. “Why? I’m the one who let your cat hijack my apartment.”

Her lips quirked, almost—but not quite—forming a smile. “Because I’m standing here in bunny slippers and pajamas, looking like I got dragged out of bed during a fire drill.”

His gaze swept over her, taking in the pink pajama set, the tousled hair, and the aforementioned bunny slippers. “For the record,” he said, his voice low and warm, “you look great. Fire drill chic really works for you.”

That earned him a laugh, soft and genuine, and it sent a pleasant warmth through his chest. “You’re ridiculous,” she said, shaking her head, though her smile lingered.

“And you’re stuck in a hallway with me,” he replied, a playful grin tugging at his lips. “Guess that makes us both unlucky tonight—or maybe just lucky in a weird way.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her amusement. “So what do we do now?”

Theo glanced at the door, then back at her, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. “Well, unless Mochi learns how to unlock doors, I think we’re stuck out here until maintenance shows up. Or until he gets bored and lets us in.”

“Perfect,” Jemma groaned, slumping against the wall. “This is officially the worst New Year’s Eve ever.”

Theo leaned against the wall beside her, his shoulder brushing hers. “Could be worse,” he said lightly. “You could be stuck out here with someone you don’t like.”

She glanced at him, her expression softening into a teasing smirk. “I suppose it could be worse.”

Theo felt a surprising flicker of something he hadn’t expected—maybe optimism, maybe curiosity. Either way, this New Year’s Eve was starting to look a lot better than he’d imagined.

“Do you, uh… have plans?” Jemma asked, already suspecting the answer.

“Had,” Theo corrected, through there wasn’t the slightest hint of disappointment in his tone, only humor. “My sister set me up on a blind date. She didn’t want me spending New Year’s alone.”

Jemma stared at Theo, trying to process the idea of him on a blind date. It didn’t compute. Guys like Theo didn’t need help finding someone to spend New Year’s with. He was the kind of man women probably lined up for, figuratively—or maybe even literally—outside his door, each vying for a sliver of his attention. Handsome, successful, and naturally charismatic, he had the air of someone who had it all figured out. The kind of guy who didn’t swipe through dating apps or need a sibling to arrange an awkward meetup.

The fact that he had needed his sister to step in was baffling. But also… strangely comforting. It made him feel more like a real person, not some untouchable movie hero with airbrushed abs and an action-packed soundtrack. The image of Theo sitting across from an awkward stranger at a bar, trying to make small talk about favorite movies or mutual hobbies, was somehow endearing. Maybe he wasn’t so different after all.

And knowing that made her feel oddly more at ease. If Theo wasn’t above the struggle of dating, then maybe she wasn’t as hopeless as she sometimes felt. “It’s good to know I’m not alone in this whole… catastrophe of modern romance,” she said, her lips quirking into a wry smile.

He chuckled, the sound warm and unguarded. “Oh, trust me, you’re not. Blind dates are an experience I could’ve gone without, but my sisters relentless. She made me promise to try at least once.”

“Been there. Done that,” Jemma blurted before she could stop herself.

He turned his head to look at her, his eyes gleaming with amusement. His lips curved into that mischievous grin again—the one that sent a little zing through her chest, no matter how much she tried to ignore it. “Really?” he asked, clearly entertained. “You’ve done the blind-date circuit?”

Her cheeks burned as she crossed her arms over her chest, trying to look nonchalant despite her ridiculous bunny slippers and snack-themed pajamas. “I mean, I can relate,” she said, hoping she sounded casual and not mortified.

He tilted his head, the grin widening. “Let me guess… it didn’t go well?”

She groaned, running a hand through her hair. “I’d call it a disaster, but that feels generous. There was this one guy who spent the entire date talking about his lizard—he was really passionate about reptiles. And not, like, in a charming way. In a ‘this is my lizard’s detailed feeding schedule and health history’ kind of way.”

Theo barked out a laugh, leaning back against the wall. “Okay, that’s bad.”

“Oh, I’m not done,” Jemma said, warming to the topic. “Another guy brought his mom. She sat between us and ordered my food for me. I couldn’t even get out because she’d parked her walker so I couldn’t leave the table.”

Theo was shaking with laughter now, his shoulders trembling as he tried—and failed—to hold it in. “You’re kidding.”

“Wish I was,” Jemma muttered, though she couldn’t help but grin. “Blind dates are like punishment for single people. It’s like, ‘Oh, you’re not in a relationship? Here, suffer.’”

Theo wiped at his eyes, still grinning. “Well, maybe it’s a good thing your cat hijacked mine tonight. Seems like I dodged a bullet—or, in your case, a lizard.”

Jemma laughed, the sound blending with his in a way that felt natural, easy. And in that moment, sitting in a hallway with her locked door behind her and her neighbor beside her, it didn’t feel like the worst way to start a new year.

“Anyway, sorry Mochi hijacked your date,” she said, sinking down to sit on the hallway floor. She reached for her grocery bag, checking the bottle of champagne that had hit the floor in all the commotion. She held it up, relieved. “Well, at least one of us survived tonight.”

Theo chuckled and slid down to sit beside her, his socked feet stretched out on the hallway carpet. “Honestly? There are worse ways to spend an evening.”

Jemma raised an eyebrow. “Worse than being locked out in bunny slippers with your neighbor?”

“Worse than being locked out in bunny slippers with a neighbor and champagne,” he countered, his grin widening.

She couldn’t help but laugh. “Right, because this is normal.”

“It’s got character,” he said, leaning back against the wall. “And for what it’s worth, I’m not mad at Mochi. Every diva needs a stage.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled despite herself. “Well, he’s definitely found his. Right in the middle of your couch, no doubt.”

Reaching into the bag again, Jemma pulled out the box of chocolates, unwrapped one, and popped it into her mouth. She then held the box out to Theo. “Not exactly what I had in mind for tonight, but I can’t say it’s the worst option.”

Theo took a chocolate and popped it into his mouth, nodding in agreement. “Who doesn’t want to spend New Year’s in pajamas with a neighbor they barely know?”

Jemma smirked and leaned her head back against the wall, feeling more at ease than she’d expected. “Well, since we’re stuck here, how about a toast?”

“A toast?” Theo repeated, raising an eyebrow as she pulled out the champagne and a pair of plastic champagne flutes from the bag.

“They came in a party pack,” Jemma said defensively, catching his amused look. “It was on sale, and I thought, ‘Why not?’” She shrugged. “I didn’t expect to be sharing them, though.”

“Why not,” he said with a shrug as she poured. “It’s tradition, right?”

“Right,” Jemma replied, smiling as she handed him a glass.

Theo held his up, tilting it toward her. “Alright, what are we toasting to?”

She raised hers, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “To diva cats and cheap bubbly.”

He laughed, the sound warm and easy as he clinked his glass to hers. “I was going to say new adventures in the new year, but sure—let’s go with that.”

She grinned back. “Maybe they’re the same thing.”

As the laughter settled between them, Jemma tilted her head, curiosity getting the better of her. “So, what do you do, Theo? For a living, I mean. Let me guess—you’re secretly a spy, right? Or maybe an international art thief? You’ve got the wardrobe for it.”

Theo chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Not quite that exciting,” he said, leaning his head back against the wall. “I work in finance. Specifically, I manage portfolios and help people invest their money.”

Jemma raised an eyebrow. “Like stocks and bonds and all that Wall Street stuff?”

“Pretty much,” he said, his smile turning slightly self-deprecating. “I’m a portfolio manager, which means I spend my days analyzing markets, predicting trends, and trying to keep my clients from panicking when the stock market sneezes.”

She blinked, processing that. “So you’re like a money therapist?”

“Exactly,” Theo said with a laugh. “I talk people out of impulsively selling everything during a dip and convince them they won’t go bankrupt if they buy a new dishwasher.”

Jemma laughed, shaking her head. “You make it sound so glamorous.”

“Oh, it’s thrilling,” he deadpanned. “Lots of spreadsheets. Endless meetings. And a constant supply of coffee strong enough to power a small city.”

“Well,” she said, smirking, “at least you’re good at it, right?”

He gave her a playful side-eye. “Are you asking if I’ve lost anyone’s life savings?”

“Maybe,” she teased. “Do you have skeletons in your closet, Theo?”

“Not that I know of,” he replied, his grin widening. “Though if I ever decide to take up art theft, I’ll let you know.”

Jemma laughed again, a light, melodic sound that made Theo’s lips quirk into a grin. At first, being locked out of her apartment in her pajamas—complete with bunny slippers and messy hair—had felt like something straight out of a high school nightmare. The kind of humiliation people joked about but secretly dreaded for years. She’d been near panic, half convinced the universe was laughing at her. Who gets locked out looking like this? It was the stuff of sitcoms, not real life.

But then there was Theo, cool and unbothered, as if finding your neighbor stranded in cartoon-themed loungewear was just another Tuesday. He’d joked, grinned, and made it all feel strangely… normal. Like it wasn’t something to be embarrassed about. Like it happened to everyone at some point.

And somehow, his casual ease had melted her discomfort. The panic faded, replaced by something lighter, even warm. It made her relax in ways she didn’t expect. It made her like him even more.

Theo shifted slightly, the cheap champagne glass balanced precariously in one hand as he popped a chocolate into his mouth with the other. The taste hit him immediately—sweet, almost cloyingly so, with a waxy texture that stuck to the roof of his mouth. Definitely not the kind of chocolate he was used to. He’d been spoiled with the good stuff before: rich, velvety truffles from high-end patisseries, each bite a symphony of cocoa and cream.

But this? This was the kind of chocolate that came in bulk, wrapped in festive foil, and probably sat on grocery store shelves for months before finding its way into someone’s cart. Yet somehow, he didn’t mind. Sitting here, sharing a bag of budget sweets with Jemma, it didn’t feel like a compromise—it felt like a treat.

If eating a thousand waxy chocolates was the price of spending an evening with her, he’d gladly pay it.

She sat cross-legged on the floor beside him, her shapely legs stretched out in front of her. She was relaxed now, her earlier embarrassment fading as she launched into an enthusiastic—and unexpectedly hilarious—breakdown of the apartment complex’s residents.

He watched as she brushed her hair out of her face, her expression lighting up as she launched into her tales. Her hands moved animatedly as she spoke, and he couldn’t help but notice the way she tucked her feet under her legs when she got comfortable on the floor. It was one of the many little habits he’d already picked up on since moving in, even though they’d barely spoken before tonight.

He’d noticed, for instance, how she always hummed when walking down the hallway, completely unaware of how charmingly off-key she was. Or how she tended to pause in front of her apartment door, fishing through her bag for keys, often muttering little things to herself—like an internal pep talk she didn’t realize was audible.

And then there was the way she always greeted everyone with a bright smile, even if she seemed to be in a rush. She had this knack for making people feel seen, even if it was just a quick “Hey, how’s it going?” in passing. He’d seen her crouch down to pet Mrs. Darby’s ancient, bulldog without hesitation, whispering, “I know, buddy, life’s rough,” like she truly understood the old dog’s struggles.

Tonight, he’d seen another habit: the way she tugged at her pajama top when she was nervous, as if smoothing out imaginary wrinkles would help her regain control of the moment. Or the way she scrunched her nose when she was about to say something self-deprecating but couldn’t quite help herself. Like now, as she rambled about the apartment complex.

“So,” she began, clearing her throat, “if you’re new here, you should probably know about Mrs. Crenshaw. She lives in 3B, and she’s a retired teacher who now spends her free time perfecting the art of passive-aggressive sticky notes.”

Theo raised an eyebrow. “Sticky notes?”

“Oh, yeah,” Jemma said, grinning as she nodded down the hallway to where 3B was. “She leaves them everywhere. In the laundry room, on the bulletin board in the lobby, even on people’s doors. Last week, she left one on my mat that said, ‘Please take in your packages in a timely manner. This isn’t Amazon’s storage unit.’ And I had literally been home for, like, twenty minutes. She leaves them everywhere,” Jemma continued, her voice full of exasperation. “Last week, I got one that said, ‘Please refrain from leaving shoes in the hallway. This isn’t a mudroom.’ And I don’t even own muddy shoes!”

Theo felt his mouth tug into a grin. “You sound like you’ve got quite the fan club,” he said, leaning back against the wall.

“Oh, absolutely,” she replied, tilting her head with a playful smirk.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Mrs. Crenshaw sounds like a delight.”

“She’s a peach,” Jemma said with a mock-serious nod. “Then there’s Mr. Nguyen in 4A. He’s a retired engineer, but his true passion is birdwatching. He has this gigantic pair of binoculars, and he’s always on his balcony with them. Honestly, I don’t know if he’s watching birds or spying on people, but either way, it’s a vibe.”

“Noted,” Theo said, laughing. “Who else should I keep an eye out for?”

“Well, there’s Brenda in 2C,” Jemma continued, her tone lowering conspiratorially. “She’s a single mom with twins, and I swear those kids are future ninjas. They’re always climbing stuff—furniture, trees, balconies. I caught one of them trying to scale the drainpipe last summer. Brenda just shrugged and said, ‘At least they’re getting exercise.’”

“Sounds like a lively household,” Theo said, grinning.

“Lively’s one word for it,” Jemma replied. “Then there’s Diego in 1D. He’s a personal trainer, and every morning at six a.m., he does this super loud workout routine in his apartment. It’s mostly grunting and what sounds like the aggressive slamming of weights. I’ve never actually seen him lift anything, but based on the noise, I think he’s either incredibly strong or trying to fight off a bear.”

He nearly choked on his champagne, laughing. “You’ve got quite the crew here.”

“Oh, it gets better,” Jemma said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “There’s also Felicia in 5E. She’s a travel blogger and insists on taking all her photos in front of the apartment’s mailboxes. Apparently, they’re ‘rustic chic.’ I’ve lived here for three years, and I still don’t know what that means.”

He shook his head, his grin widening. “You’re telling me all this, and now I feel like I’ve been missing out.”

“Oh, trust me,” she said, wagging a finger at him. “You’ve barely scratched the surface. This place is basically a sitcom waiting to happen. We just need a laugh track.”

Theo took another sip of his champagne—or what was left of it. The bubbles had long since fizzled out, leaving behind a flat, vaguely sweet liquid that barely qualified as drinkable. Not that it mattered. He wasn’t paying attention to the champagne; his focus was entirely on Jemma. “You’re making this place sound like a madhouse.”

She was mid-laugh, popping another piece of chocolate into her mouth, her eyes alight with humor. “Oh, it is,” she said, waving a hand as if to brush off his comment. “But it’s our madhouse.”

He watched her as she talked, her expressive hands flying as she punctuated each story with little gestures, her laughter filling the dim hallway like a warm glow. It was impossible not to get caught up in her energy. She had a way of making everything—from their eccentric neighbors to the absurdity of being locked out—seem like part of some grand, entertaining adventure.

Theo was about to say something, maybe to tease her about how effortlessly she turned an otherwise ridiculous situation into something fun, when the sound of a door creaking open broke the moment. Both he and Jemma turned, their laughter fading as Mrs. Crenshaw stepped out of her apartment, her gaze immediately zeroing in on the pile of wrappers and empty glasses like a hawk spotting its prey.

“Well,” she said, her tone dry and laced with unimpressed humor, “looks like New Year’s Eve has really gone downhill since my day. Champagne on the floor and a chocolate wrapper explosion?”

Jemma let out a nervous laugh, brushing her hands against her pajama shorts. “Uh, long story. Mochi locked us out of both our apartments.” She gestured to Theo. “We were hoping maybe you could call maintenance for us?”

Mrs. Crenshaw was the kind of woman who could make a grown man feel like a scolded schoolboy with just a glance. Her gray eyes, framed by thick glasses, seemed to see everything—and judge it, too. With her tightly curled gray hair and a robe that looked more like armor than loungewear, she exuded the no-nonsense energy of someone who’d spent decades keeping people in line. Her gaze lingered on Theo for a moment, appraising him with the kind of scrutiny that made him instinctively sit up a little straighter. “I see,” she said slowly, her lips pursed. “Well, that explains why you’re both camped out here like college kids after a wild party. And here I thought we were upgrading the building’s clientele.”

He smiled politely, lifting a hand in greeting. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Crenshaw.”

She gave him a curt nod. “Likewise, young man. I’ll call maintenance—but only because I’d like my hallway back before midnight. And next time, maybe keep the chocolates in the wrapper. Ants, you know.”

Jemma tried to hide her grin as Mrs. Crenshaw disappeared back into her apartment. Once the door clicked shut, she glanced at Theo, shaking her head. “She’s never going to let me live this down.”

Theo chuckled, leaning closer. “At least she didn’t mention the cat. Small mercies.”

“So,” she asked, tilting her head at him, her lips curving into a playful smile. “What’s your verdict? Ready to pack your bags, or are you sticking it out?”

He pretended to mull it over, drawing one knee up and resting his arm casually across the top. He swirled the contents of his glass, though there wasn’t much left to swirl. “Hmm,” he said, his tone thoughtful, though his mind was racing.

She wanted to know if he was staying. If they were going to continue being neighbors. There was something about the way she’d asked—casual on the surface but laced with curiosity—that felt like she was testing the waters. Testing him.

He wasn’t about to jump headfirst into anything, not after what Isabella had put him through. That particular disaster had left scars he wasn’t eager to reopen. But this was different. This was Jemma. She was funny, open, and endearingly unfiltered. And the idea of wading into something more with her didn’t feel as menacing as it might have with anyone else.

He leaned forward, his eyes settling on her face, taking in every detail. The way her hair framed her features. The soft curve of her lips, slightly parted as if she were about to say something. Her eyes widened slightly under his gaze, and he caught the nervous flick of her tongue over her bottom lip. It was subtle, but it hit him like a jolt of electricity.

Excitement mixed with a flicker of caution. He didn’t know what this was—what it could be—but in that moment, he didn’t care. He smiled, letting the warmth of the moment carry him. “Sticky notes, birdwatchers, ninja twins, and pretty neighbors with diva cats…” He paused, his grin widening as he saw her cheeks flush a soft pink.

“I think I’m staying.” Theo’s voice was warm, teasing, and entirely too disarming.

Jemma’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second, something unfamiliar twisting in her chest. She wasn’t shy—not even around guys she found attractive—but Theo was different. He made her feel exposed in a way she wasn’t used to, like he could see through her jokes and her bravado to something deeper. Vulnerability wasn’t something she was comfortable with, yet here she was, smiling up at him and feeling completely off balance.

“Welcome to the madhouse, neighbor,” she said, her voice softer than she intended, but the words carried a weight she hadn’t meant to give them.

He was staying. The thought reverberated in her mind, equal parts thrilling and unsettling. Theo wasn’t just her neighbor anymore—he was going to be her neighbor. Right next door, within arm’s reach, and suddenly, it hit her: he might actually be interested in her. Not in the casual, polite way of neighbors, but as something… more.

Theo wasn’t like the guys she usually ended up with. He wasn’t lizard guy, who’d spent an entire date gushing over his reptile’s dietary habits, or momma’s boy guy, whose mother had practically held his hand through their awkward dinner. Theo was charming, confident, and genuinely kind. He was also ridiculously handsome, effortlessly sexy, and, frankly, way out of her league. He was everything she’d told herself she didn’t deserve and everything she secretly wanted.

Which terrified her.

Maybe this was the problem with her love life. Maybe it wasn’t the weirdos, or the blind dates gone wrong. Maybe she was sabotaging herself, avoiding anything real or meaningful because the possibility of something wonderful felt too risky.

“Well,” Jemma blurted suddenly, her voice a touch too loud and strained, “I guess we should get this mess cleaned up. I’m sure the maintenance guy will be here in a jiffy.” She stood abruptly, brushing invisible lint off her pajama shorts and fussing with the hem of her top. “It might not be too late to salvage your blind date.”

Theo rose more slowly, his movements calm and deliberate as he watched her with a mixture of curiosity and concern. The scattered chocolate wrappers and empty champagne bottle at his feet seemed insignificant now as he glanced at his wristwatch. “It’s six minutes until midnight, Jemma. I’d say that ship has sailed.”

“Yeah,” she replied, her voice tight as she shoved a stray lock of hair from her forehead in a futile attempt to look unbothered. “I guess you’re right.”

But she wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all Theo. His eyes narrowed slightly as he stepped closer, his presence grounding. He reached out, his fingers brushing her elbow lightly, and turned her to face him. “Jemma,” he said softly, his tone steady and calm, “what’s got you so rattled?”

She forced a smile, but it wavered, betraying her unease. “I don’t know what you mean,” she said, her voice falling flat.

“One minute, we’re laughing, having a good time,” Theo said, his voice a mix of humor and sincerity, “and the next, you’re ready to pack up and bolt.”

“Don’t be silly,” she said, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her pajama top like it might somehow anchor her.

Theo tilted his head slightly, his gaze steady and patient. “Did I say something…?”

“No!” she said quickly, shaking her head so forcefully her hair fell into her eyes. She pushed it back again with an exasperated huff. “It’s not you.”

“Then what is it?” he asked, his concern genuine now, his voice softer but no less insistent.

Jemma opened her mouth, ready to deflect again, but the words caught in her throat. She could feel the heaviness of her own spiraling thoughts—the way she’d gone from feeling relaxed and happy to overthinking everything in the span of seconds. This wasn’t Theo’s fault. It wasn’t the champagne or the chocolates or even Mochi’s antics. It was her.

She was doing it again, she realized—sabotaging something good before it even had a chance to start. Theo was here, right in front of her, and she was already pushing him away. She didn’t want to ruin this newfound connection, but vulnerability wasn’t something she handled well.

“I…” she started, but the words faltered. Her chest tightened as she realized she’d been gripping the fabric of her pajama top like a lifeline. “I think I’m just really good at making a mess of things.” Her voice cracked slightly, and she let out a self-deprecating laugh. “And I guess I’m trying to get ahead of the curve.”

Theo didn’t say anything right away, but his gaze softened as he held her eyes. “Jemma,” he said after a moment, his voice low and steady, “you’re not making a mess of anything.”

His words hung in the air, a gentle reassurance that made her throat tighten even more. Maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to run this time.

As Theo reached up to gently stroke her check with his knuckles, she felt her defenses crack. “I really like you,” she admitted, her voice oddly low. “I like talking to you. You’re not like the other guys I’ve dated, and that’s what scares me.”

His brow furrowed, but he didn’t interrupt. She pressed on, needing to get the words out before she lost her nerve.

“I’m afraid I’ll ruin it,” she admitted, her voice trembling as the words tumbled out. “Because that’s what I do. I pick the wrong guys, or I mess things up. And this?” She gestured vaguely between them, her eyes flicking to his. “What’s happening right now? It feels too right. Too wonderful. And that terrifies me.”

Theo let her words settle for a moment before taking a deep breath, his hand sliding down from her elbow to gently hold hers. “I know how it feels to be scared,” he said quietly, his voice steady. “I’ve been there.”

She scoffed, a nervous laugh escaping her lips as she shook her head. “I doubt that,” she said, glancing up at him. “You’re the guy who has it all figured out. You’re good looking, charming, and fun. I’m guessing you’ve never struggled a day in your life when it comes to romantic relationships.”

His smile faltered slightly, his eyes taking on a distant, almost reflective look. “You’d be surprised,” he said, his voice softer now. “There was a time when I thought I had it all figured out, too. But I was wrong.”

She tilted her head, curiosity flickering through her apprehension. “What do you mean?”

Theo hesitated for a moment, the faintest hint of a bitter smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Let’s just say I’ve had my share of mistakes. The biggest one being Isabella.”

The subtle shift in her expression told Theo his words had struck a chord. Jemma’s nervousness softened, replaced by something quieter—understanding, perhaps, or the recognition that she wasn’t the only one haunted by past mistakes.

“Isabella?” she asked gently, her voice steadier now, as though encouraging him to continue.

He nodded, his jaw tightening briefly before he exhaled, letting the tension ease. “Yeah,” he said, his voice calm but tinged with something unresolved. “She was my fiancée.”

“Go on,” Jemma urged.

He leaned back slightly, his gaze softening as he let the memories surface. “I thought we were the perfect couple,” he began, his voice calm but carrying an undercurrent of something heavier. “You know, the kind of couple people toast at parties and say, ‘You two are going to go the distance.’ I believed that. I really did. I thought I loved her—I mean, I did love her, or at least I thought that’s what love was supposed to feel like.”

Jemma tilted her head slightly, her eyes fixed on him, silently urging him to go on.

“She checked all the boxes,” Theo continued, his mouth curving into a faint, humorless smile. “Smart, gorgeous, ambitious. We looked great on paper. We’d go to fancy dinners and laugh at all the right moments. We talked about our future like it was already set in stone—house in the suburbs, golden retriever, family vacations. It felt… seamless. Too seamless, maybe.”

“What happened?” Jemma asked gently, her voice steady but filled with curiosity and quiet compassion.

Theo took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair before letting it drop to his side. “We were two weeks from the wedding,” he said, his tone steady but his jaw tightening slightly. “The whole fairy tale deal—a ceremony at Martha’s Vineyard, a honeymoon in Cabo. My mom was already practicing her speech, and my sister had half the bachelorette pictures printed for some scrapbook thing.”

Jemma smiled faintly at that, but it faded quickly as he went on.

“And then,” Theo said, his voice dropping slightly, “I walked into our apartment after a late meeting. I wasn’t supposed to be home yet, but I’d decided to surprise her with her favorite takeout—Thai food, extra spicy. I thought it’d be romantic.”

He paused, his lips pressing into a thin line as the memory resurfaced. “But when I walked in, there she was. In bed. With my best friend.”

Jemma gasped, her hand instinctively flying to her mouth. “Oh, God, Theo,” she said softly, shifting closer to him. Without even thinking, she reached out and rested her hand on his chest, her touch light and comforting. “I’m so sorry.”

He looked down at her hand for a moment before meeting her eyes, his expression softening. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “It was… rough. Not just because of her. I mean, that was bad enough, but I lost my best friend that day too. The guy I’d known since middle school. We played basketball in my driveway, shared everything—college woes, bad breakups, stupid bets. And just like that, both of them were gone.”

Her fingers pressed lightly against his chest, her eyes shimmering with something he couldn’t quite place—sympathy, maybe, or understanding. “I can’t imagine,” she whispered. “That must’ve been devastating.”

He let out a soft, humorless chuckle. “You could say that. It took me a while to even trust myself again, let alone anyone else. I kept thinking, ‘How could I have missed it? How could I not have seen it coming?’” He shook his head slightly, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “So yeah, I know how it feels to be scared, Jemma. I’ve been there. But,” he added, his voice softening even more, “if I’ve learned anything, it’s that you can’t let the past stop you from finding something good.”

Her gaze didn’t waver, her hand still resting on his chest. “That’s… brave,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know if I could’ve handled that.”

“You’d be surprised what you can handle,” he said with a faint smile, the warmth in his eyes softening the moment. “And besides, sometimes the hardest part isn’t the heartbreak. It’s deciding to open the door again after it’s all gone wrong.”

She nodded slowly, her thumb unconsciously brushing against the fabric of his shirt. “Maybe,” she said softly. “But it still takes a lot of courage.”

He looked at her for a long moment, his chest tightening slightly—not in pain, but in something unfamiliar and yet strangely comforting. “I think we’ve both got more courage than we give ourselves credit for,” he said quietly.

Jemma wanted to believe it. She needed to believe it. Whatever this was—this connection, this unexpected moment with Theo—it was fragile, like a newly hatched bird testing its wings. It was wonderful, filling her chest with a lightness she hadn’t felt in years. And it was terrifying, threatening to send her spiraling back into the fears she knew so well.

But then Theo stepped closer, his presence steady and grounding. He gathered both her hands in his, his touch warm and reassuring, like an anchor in a storm.

“I don’t want to stop what’s happening—not before we give ourselves a chance to find out if this is something special,” he said, his voice low but filled with conviction.

His words settled in her heart, quiet but profound. They were everything she hadn’t let herself hope for, and before she could retreat into her own overthinking, Theo leaned down.

The first touch of his lips was gentle, testing, as if giving her a moment to pull away. But Jemma didn’t. She couldn’t. Her eyes fluttered shut as he deepened the kiss, his hands still holding hers, grounding her in the here and now.

The world tilted, and for a moment, everything else faded away. The hallway, the locked doors, the distant hum of fireworks—they were all inconsequential. All that mattered was the warmth of Theo’s lips, the way they moved against hers with a perfect blend of certainty and tenderness.

Her chest tightened, not with fear but with something entirely different. This wasn’t like anything she’d experienced before. This was a spark, igniting something deep within her. It was a promise—of something new, something real, something worth risking her heart for.

The faint scent of his cologne, warm and woodsy, lingered in the air, blending with the soft brush of his thumb against her hand. It wasn’t just a kiss. It was a revelation. It was the sense of belonging she hadn’t realized she’d been searching for, a connection that felt both startling and inevitable.

Outside, fireworks lit up the night sky, their vibrant colors flickering faintly through her closed eyelids. The distant chime of the church bell marked the arrival of midnight, its resonant tolling blending with the muffled celebration beyond the hallway. But Jemma barely noticed any of it. With her focus entirely on Theo—the warmth of his lips, the gentle pressure of his hands holding hers—the world outside faded into insignificance. All she felt was the pounding of her heart, steady and unyielding, echoing a quiet, unspoken hope: Maybe this is the start of something I don’t need to run from.

The sharp, unmistakable clearing of a throat shattered the moment. “Is this really appropriate behavior for the hallway?” Mrs. Crenshaw’s voice sliced through the air, her tone a perfect mix of disapproval and bemusement.

Jemma jerked back, her face flaming as she turned to find Mrs. Crenshaw standing a few feet away, arms crossed, and eyebrows raised. Beside her stood the maintenance man, his expression caught somewhere between amusement and awkwardness. He offered a small wave, the keyring in his hand jingling as if to remind everyone why he was there.

Theo didn’t miss a beat, a lazy grin spreading across his face as he glanced from Mrs. Crenshaw to the maintenance man. “Timing’s everything,” he said, his voice light and unapologetic, earning a stifled chuckle from the man and a withering glare from Mrs. Crenshaw.

Minutes later, they stepped into Theo’s apartment, Mochi sprawled smugly on the couch. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” Jemma said, shaking her head as she turned on her heel and hurried to her apartment with the maintenance man.

Theo crossed his arms over his chest as his gaze swept over the wreckage that was now his apartment. It was as if a furry hurricane had torn through, leaving destruction in its wake. Cushions were knocked off the couch, his carefully stacked magazines were now a scattered pile on the floor, and a half-empty glass of water on the coffee table had been dramatically tipped over, leaving a spreading puddle.

And in the center of it all, like the king surveying his conquered territory, sat Mochi. The cat jumped from the couch to the armchair, licking his paw with an air of smug indifference.

“Oh, I see how it is,” Theo muttered, his hands on his hips. “You come in here, lock me out of my own place, and then redecorate? Nice work, Mochi.”

Mochi paused mid-lick, fixing Theo with a slow, deliberate blink, as if to say, You’re welcome.

Theo shook his head, his grin widening despite himself. “Yeah, I’m onto you. This was all part of the master plan, wasn’t it? Stir up some drama, play some matchmaking, and then claim the throne.”

Mochi responded with a long, exaggerated stretch, his claws sinking momentarily into the fabric of Theo’s armchair before he flopped onto his side with a loud thump. The audacity of the move was both infuriating and, begrudgingly, impressive.

Theo sighed, grabbing a dishtowel to mop up the water. “You’re lucky your antics worked out for both of us,” he said, shooting the cat a mock glare. “But don’t think this means we’re cool.”

Mochi yawned, wide and unbothered, his tail flicking lazily as if to say, You’ll thank me later.

Theo chuckled again, shaking his head. “Unbelievable.” And yet, as he straightened up and glanced toward the door where Jemma had disappeared with the maintenance man, he couldn’t help but feel a little grateful. Mochi’s chaos had somehow turned his quiet New Year’s Eve into something far better than he could’ve imagined.

And as the cat settled into a satisfied loaf on the chair, Theo leaned down, giving his fur a quick ruffle. “Thanks, Mochi,” he murmured. “But next time, maybe tone it down a notch, yeah?”

Mochi’s only response was a flick of his tail, clearly signaling that any such requests would be ignored.

Theo scooped up the cat. Mochi squirmed for a moment, then gave up with a loud, judgmental purr, his small body radiating smug satisfaction.

Theo held him at arm’s length, raising an eyebrow. “You really think you’re the hero of this story, don’t you?”

Mochi blinked slowly, his expression one of feline indifference, before turning his head and promptly swiping a paw toward Theo’s chin.

“Fair enough,” he muttered, pulling the cat closer and giving him a reluctant nuzzle. The soft fur tickled his nose, and he sighed. “Alright, fine. You win. I’m officially a cat person. Happy now?”

Mochi responded with a half-hearted meow, his tail flicking like he couldn’t care less about Theo’s life-altering revelation.

Theo chuckled. Just a few hours ago, Jemma had been little more than a fleeting figure in the hallway, someone he barely knew beyond the occasional polite nod or quick hello. And now? They’d gone from strangers to reluctant hallway companions, to sharing cheap champagne and chocolates, to… kissing.

He glanced toward the doorway, where Jemma was still talking to the maintenance man, and a smile tugged at his lips. His life, and hers, had shifted tonight, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was for the better. There was something different in the air now, something unspoken but promising. They were neighbors, yes, but also friends—maybe even more.

Theo scratched behind Mochi’s ears, the cat leaning into his hand with an expression that could only be described as pure bliss. “Thanks, Mochi,” he whispered. “I owe you one.”

The cat promptly sneezed directly into Theo’s face, his purr never faltering.

“Yeah, that’s about right,” Theo muttered, wiping his cheek just as Jemma reappeared in the doorway, her cheeks still pink but her smile radiant.

“I believe that’s my cat,” she said, her hands resting on her hips as she glanced between Theo and the thoroughly content Mochi.

Theo tilted his head, cradling the cat dramatically. “Your cat? This little troublemaker? I think he’s chosen a new life of luxury.”

Jemma shook her head but stepped into the apartment, reaching for Mochi. “I’ll take my chances. Come on, Mochi.”

Theo handed him over but couldn’t resist a smirk. “You know, if you ever want to repay me for babysitting, I’d settle for a real date. Maybe with real chocolate. And no plastic champagne flutes.”

She quirked an eyebrow, hugging Mochi tighter to her chest as if he were her accomplice. “A real date, huh? Bold move for someone who just admitted to being completely won over by a cat.”

“What can I say?” Theo shrugged, his grin growing wider. “You’re a bad influence.”

She laughed, the sound light and genuine, and shifted Mochi in her arms. “Fine, but if the chocolate’s terrible, I’m siccing Mochi on you. He’s got a track record for keeping people in check.”

Theo leaned casually against the doorway, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Fair warning taken. But as long as he doesn’t lock the door behind me again, I think I can handle him.”

She paused in the doorway, glancing back at him with a teasing glint in her eyes. “See? That’s what I get for being nice to you. Next thing I know, I’m stuck in a hallway drinking cheap bubbly.”

“And yet,” Theo said, his voice playful but warm, “you’re still planning the next round. I’m taking that as a win.”

Jemma smirked, shaking her head as she stepped into the hallway. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, neighbor. I’ve got high standards for round two.”

Mochi let out a dramatic yawn, his tiny body collapsing into her arms like the night had been a monumental chore. Theo’s laugh followed them into the hallway, the sound warm and easy, wrapping around her like a comforting embrace.

It wasn’t grand or dramatic. No sweeping gestures or over-the-top moments. But it didn’t need to be. The banter, the laughter, the spark—it all felt real. And for the first time in a long time, Jemma realized that real might just be better than perfect.

For now, it was enough. More than enough.

THE END