And finally Sam wraps up the call.
“Anyway, I’ll catch you this weekend.”
Will hangs up.
Silence crashes down like a wave. Then I hit him.
“You’re insane.”
“You loved it.”
“I’m never going to be able to look my brother in the eye again.”
Will just grins, hands sliding back under my shirt, already hard again.
“Guess we better give you something else to think about.”
And, damn him, he does.
24
I hold Sam Jr. in my arms, nestled against my chest, and shake my head in awe. “How has he gotten so big?”
Charlie smiles, her hand resting over the gentle swell of her belly. “I ask myself that every day.”
Her face is soft, glowing even in exhaustion
“How are you feeling this time?” I ask, brushing a wisp of hair from Sam Jr.’s face.
“Better,” she says, then tilts her head, half-laughing. “But also worse, if that makes sense.”
I glance up, and her smile is tired but real.
“The morning sickness is brutal,” she admits. “Tish is absolutely convinced it’s a girl this time. Says I’m too moody for it to be another boy.”
“That would be so precious,” I say, meaning it.
Charlie watches me for a beat, eyes a little too perceptive. “How have you been? I feel like I only ever see you in passing. And hear from you in emails.”
I glance down at Sam Jr., suddenly fascinated by his tiny fingers. “I’ve been good. Busy.”
I try to smile, but it doesn’t quite reach. The guilt creeps in like smoke under a door.
We’ve still been writing our columns. Our joint pieces have gained traction, enough that we’ve even tossed around the idea of opening a small newspaper shop downtown. But I’ve been distant. No late-night edits, no shared coffee runs, no laughing on Charlie’s couch while we figure out who we should interview next.
Because I’ve been with Will. Hiding away in his bed, his arms, his voice like the rest of the world stopped existing.
And maybe that’s the problem.
“I miss you,” she says gently.
I look up, throat tightening.
“I miss you too.”
And I do.
But I also don’t know how to explain that I’ve fallen headfirst into something I can’t quite control. That every moment away from him feels off now. That I've built my days around the shape of Will’s body beside mine and forgotten how to share space with anyone else.
