Matt didn't ask questions of Rose. He couldn't. She didn't deserve getting blindsided by a lot of useless inquiries as to what she might be up to, where she might be going. There was doubt, but it was only an iota, a scrap of a feeling. Usually he could tell when someone was being deceptive. Rose had never been.
He had offered to let her go in exchange for her to stay with him in his apartment, which she had agreed to. Any adjustment to the necessary order of his things he would make. He would make sure she felt as if she were truly home. It was all he really could give to her and he hoped that was all it would take.
On the stove the skillet sizzled. Chicken breasts simmered, bathing in a coat of olive oil and a dash of basamlic vinegar.
Next to that, on the other burner, boiled a cauliflower.
When the door opened, some time after five PM, Matt looked up from where he stood in the kitchen and listened. He smelled her before she even got close to his door, but his smile only grew as she pushed past the threshold. "Need any help?" He called.