Stella peered inside, taking in the neat space, the fresh flowers on the nightstand, the carefully arranged towels Meg had changed twice.
“Roses?” Stella’s voice was carefully neutral. “Fancy.”
“I thought—” Meg stopped. “Yeah. They’re nice.”
“Were these for the girlfriend?”
“There is no girlfriend,” Tyler said quickly.
“But you said you were bringing someone special—” Stella’s eyes widened slightly. “Oh. Awkward.”
“Yeah,” Meg agreed. “Very.”
Stella stepped into the room, dropping her duffel bag in the corner without ceremony. No unpacking, Meg noticed. Just the bag, zipped and ready, like she might need to leave at any moment.
“Sheets are clean,” Meg offered. “Extra blankets in the closet if you need them.”
“It’s California.”
“Right.”
“In summer.”
“Right.”
They all stood there, clustered in the doorway like no one knew how to move.
“I need to grab my things,” Meg said finally, breaking the awkward silence. She squeezed past them to collect her essentials—toiletries, tomorrow’s clothes, her laptop. Everything else could wait.
“So I’m displacing everyone,” Stella said flatly, watching Meg pack. “Cool. This is exactly what Mom said would happen.”
“What?” Tyler’s voice sharpened. “What did she say?”
“Nothing. Forget it.”
“Stella—”
“I said forget it.” She turned away, studying the shells on the windowsill with intense focus.
Meg zipped up her overnight bag. “All yours,” she said gently.
“Thanks,” Stella muttered, still not turning around.
“If you need anything—” Tyler started.
“I’m fine.”
“Okay, but?—”
“I’m fine.” Stella’s voice was harder now, a clear dismissal.
They retreated to the hallway, Tyler still hovering like he wanted to say more but didn’t know what.
“She’s got to be exhausted,” Tyler said quietly. “That flight’s a killer even when you’re not dealing with...” He gestured helplessly at the closed door.
“When did she leave Sydney?”
“Yesterday? Today? I’ve lost track of time zones.” He rubbed his face. “God, has it really only been one day?”
