I didn’t respond.
Because the image of Tally with some other guy had lodged itself somewhere deep in my chest, pressing into a spot I hadn’t known was sore until she touched it.
Had Nick stayed in town, hiding in the shadows, even after I told him to fuck off? She would have told me, right? Had she met someone since moving here? Or maybe I was wrong. Perhaps she’d been texting someone this whole time, slipping off to call him when she thought no one was paying attention.
The only guy in her orbit was Dig—who preferred men, musicals, and moisturizers in that order—so I hadn’t worried.
Not that it mattered. Not that I was keeping tabs. Not that I—
“You’re mad,” Sutton said, her eyes gleaming now. “Oh my God. You’re mad.”
“I’m not mad,” I snapped, a little too fast.
Sutton clutched her chest like she’d been gifted the greatest Christmas present of all time. “He’smad! He’smad!I mean, can’t say I blame you, Charlie. She isglowy.”
“I’m going to hang up now,” I muttered, reaching for the phone.
“At least you don’t have to pack condoms!”
Click.
I stared at the black screen, Sutton’s laughter still echoing faintly through the speaker.
***
The penthouse was quiet when I let myself in, the kind of heavy stillness that made you feel like you were trespassing, even when you’d been invited.
Well—invitedmight’ve been a stretch.
Nancy scuttled past my feet with a half-hearted yap, then changed her mind and decided she hated walking more than she hated me, so she collapsed in a judgmental heap by the door.
I set my duffel bag down near the entry, careful not to wake her—Tally, not the dog.
She was curled up on the couch in the living room, one arm slung under her cheek, the other protectively tucked over her bump. The TV was on low, some cooking show humming in the background, and the flickering light from the screen painted her in warm golds and soft shadows.
I stood there for a second, taking her in, silently hoping she hadn’t caught any sudden, kitchen-ambitious ideas from the TV.
That should’ve been my cue to leave. To head straight for the unoccupied guest room, unpack, and act normal. But instead, I walked deeper into the living room, grabbed the throw blanket off the arm of the couch, and gently draped it over her. She stirred, her face scrunching like she was about to wake up, but then she sighed and settled deeper into the cushions.
Cradling her bump as if it were the only thing tethering her to the earth.
I stepped back, scrubbing a hand down my face.
This wasn’t my job. I wasn’t her anything. I was the guy her brother guilted into keeping an eye on her, a guy who hadn’t even wanted to take this on in the first place. And now?
Now I couldn’t stop looking.
The kitchen was a mess—mostly in that lived-in way that made it look like someone had been having an ordinary day, and partially because it looked like a toddler had gotten into a fight with a Kitchenaid. The fridge was cracked open enough to casta sliver of light on the counter, where a jar of olives sat empty beside a spoon and a half-drunk bottle of ginger ale.
“Girl dinner,” I muttered, shaking my head.
I cleaned it all up without thinking. I ran the dishes under hot water, wiped down the counter, and shut the fridge. But every few minutes, I found myself glancing back toward the couch.
Was she really seeing someone? Sutton wasn’t above a dramatic retelling, but that tone in her voice—that smug little “gotcha”—had rattled me. I wasn’t quite sure what to do with it. It wasn’t jealousy. It couldn’t be.
But the thought of her with someone else, getting cozy, or whatever the hell Sutton had said, somehow set my blood boiling. And, of course, it wasn’t implausible. She was a beautiful woman in a new city who was glowing in a way I’d never seen someone glow before, and everyone who stepped into her orbit felt the magnetic pull of being in her presence. Even if, as far as we all knew, she was just passing through.
Maybe whoever this guy was would be the reason she stayed. And maybe if I couldn’t have her, I’d still get to keep her around in some way.
