My sister’s psychological assessments were getting uncomfortably accurate. I blamed all the time she’d been spending with Sabrina, who apparently viewed human behavior as a fascinating puzzle to be solved through careful observation and strategic questioning.

"We should head home soon. It’s getting late."

"Can Sarah stay for dinner? Mrs. Tanaka said she was making katsu curry, and Sarah’s been talking about authentic Japanese food since we got here."

I looked at Sarah, who was now lying on her back next to Cassidy, both of them staring up at the Supra’s suspension components while discussing something that involved a lot of technical terminology and hand gestures.

"Sarah, do you want to stay for dinner?"

"Can I? My mom won’t be home until ten anyway, and this is way more interesting than microwaved ramen and reality TV."

"Call your mom and ask permission."

"Already did. She said yes as long as someone drives me home and I don’t get murdered by rich people." Sarah sat up and grinned. "I told her the rich people are too busy with their own drama to murder guests."

Cassidy snorted. "Smart kid."

Dinner was served in the informal dining room, which still looked like something from a magazine spread but at least had chairs that normal people could sit in without feeling like they were desecrating a museum exhibit. Mrs. Tanaka had outdone herself with the katsu curry, and Sarah’s reaction to her first bite was so enthusiastic that even Sabrina looked up from her book to watch.

"This is incredible. Like, restaurant quality. Better than restaurant quality." Sarah turned to Mrs. Tanaka with the serious expression of someone delivering life-changing news. "You’re an artist. I’m never eating cafeteria food again without thinking about this moment."

Mrs. Tanaka’s pleased smile suggested she didn’t often receive such passionate appreciation for her cooking. Most of the Valentine family treated excellent food as a basic expectation rather than something worth celebrating.

"The secret is in the panko breadcrumbs," she explained. "And letting the pork rest properly before frying."

"Can you teach me? My mom burns everything she tries to cook, and takeout is expensive when you’re ordering for one person every night."

"Of course. Cooking is better when shared with people who appreciate it."

I watched this interaction while simultaneously keeping track of the Valentine sisters’ various moods and energy levels. Vivienne was reviewing something on her tablet between bites, probably festival analytics or preparation materials for tomorrow’s rotation schedule. Harlow was showing Iris her photo editing app and explaining the difference between various filter options with the intensity of a university lecture. Sabrina had positioned herself in the chair next to mine and kept finding excuses to brush her fingers against my hand when reaching for water or adjusting her napkin.

Every casual touch sent electricity up my arm and straight into the part of my brain responsible for poor decision-making. Which was already working overtime trying to process the fact that in twelve hours, I would officially be dating Sabrina Valentine for two weeks. Exclusively. With whatever that implied.

"You’re thinking too loud," she murmured without looking up from her book.

"I’m eating curry."

"You’re eating curry while mentally cataloging every possible way the rotation system could go wrong and trying to calculate the probability of each scenario." Her page turned with deliberate precision. "It’s unnecessary. I’ve already considered all the variables."

"Have you?"

"I’ve been considering them since we were twelve years old."

That statement carried implications I wasn’t ready to unpack in a room full of people, so I focused on my food and tried to ignore the way Sabrina’s knee kept bumping against mine under the table. Everything about her was subtle and deliberate, from the way she’d chosen the chair beside mine to the timing of each casual contact.

Sarah dominated the conversation throughout dinner, asking questions about the mansion’s history, the Valentine family business, and whether living with identical quadruplets was as chaotic as it looked from the outside. Her enthusiasm was infectious enough that even Cassidy started contributing stories, mostly involving property damage and creative interpretations of household rules.

"There was the time Harlow tried to redecorate her entire room using only craft supplies she ordered online," Vivienne said with the tone of someone recounting a natural disaster. "The glitter explosion took three professional cleaning services to resolve."

"It wasn’t an explosion. It was artistic expression that exceeded spatial boundaries." Harlow’s defense was delivered with wounded dignity. "And the glitter added ambiance to the entire east wing."

"Mother found glitter in her coffee for six weeks afterward."

"That was a design choice. Coffee should sparkle sometimes."

Iris was taking notes, probably for future manga reference material. The Valentine family dynamics were too ridiculous to be fiction, which made them perfect source material for the kind of stories teenage girls drew in their spare time.

By the time we finished eating, Sarah had been officially adopted into the household social structure through a combination of automotive knowledge, cooking enthusiasm, and the rare ability to make Cassidy laugh without fear of physical retaliation. Mrs. Tanaka had given her a container of leftover curry to take home, along with detailed instructions for proper reheating techniques.

"I should get them home," I said, checking the time on my phone. "It’s almost eight, and Sarah’s mom will worry."

"I’ll drive you." Cassidy stood up before anyone could object, already pulling keys from her pocket. "The Supra needs a test drive anyway after the suspension adjustment."

The drive back to Philadelphia took an hour and fifteen minutes, mostly because Cassidy treated every straight stretch of highway as a personal challenge to her car’s acceleration capabilities. Sarah spent the entire trip pressed against the window making delighted noises about speed and handling, while Iris documented the experience with her phone for reasons that probably involved future blackmail material.

"This is the best day I’ve had since moving to Philadelphia," Sarah announced as we pulled up to her apartment building. "Thank you for letting me come along. And for not letting me get murdered by rich people."

"The day’s not over yet," Cassidy pointed out with a grin that suggested she was mostly joking.

After dropping Sarah off with multiple promises about future visits and cooking lessons, Cassidy drove to our apartment building in Kensington. She parked outside and turned off the engine, making no move to leave.

"Two weeks," she said without looking at me.

"Two weeks."

"Try not to fall in love with my sister before then. I have plans for our twenty-four hours, and they don’t include sharing your attention with anyone else."

Her confidence was absolute, unshakeable, the kind of certainty that came from someone who’d never learned to doubt herself. It was also completely terrifying in ways I couldn’t begin to process.

"I’ll keep that in mind."

"Good." She reached over and straightened my collar with casual possessiveness, her fingers lingering against my neck longer than necessary. "Sleep well, Isaiah. You’re going to need your energy."

Iris and I climbed the stairs to our apartment in comfortable silence, both of us exhausted from a day that had started at five-thirty in the morning and included enough social interaction to power a small city. The familiar creaking of the third step and the flickering hallway light felt reassuring after twelve hours in the Valentine family’s perfectly maintained alternate reality.

"Today was amazing," Iris said as she collapsed onto the couch next to Gerald the unicorn. "I’m definitely drawing a manga Chapter about vampire butler cafes. And Sabrina gave me a list of romance novels that she says will help with character development."

"Sabrina reads romance novels?"

"Sabrina reads everything. She has opinions about subplot structure and character motivation that could power a literature degree." Iris pulled out her sketchbook and started drawing. "She also said you’re going to be interesting to watch during the rotation."

"Interesting how?"

"She didn’t elaborate. But she smiled when she said it, which is either really good or completely terrifying."