“Actually,” I begin, and his gaze sharpens instantly, waiting. “Could you get me something else while you’re out?”
Nathaniel stills, his brows lifting in faint surprise. The tight line of his shoulders loosens, relief flickering across his face like I’ve just given him permission to breathe.He wants to feel needed.
“Anything,” he breathes, brushing his thumb along my cheek.
I smile, hoping it doesn’t look as forced as it feels. “A blueberry muffin from The Nook… I haven’t had one in a while.”
His lips twitch, amusement lighting his expression. “That’s all?”
I nod.
He presses a tender kiss to my forehead, his hand warm at the curve of my waist. “You should rest,” he says, his breath ghosting against my temple. “I’ll be back soon.”
I watch as he moves toward the door, his movements calm, unhurried. When the lock clicks softly behind him and the elevator hums to life, I exhale, slumping back in my seat.
The quiet settles in again. My hand drifts immediately to the necklace, and I unclasp it. Cradling it, my fingers brush over the delicate monogram engraved at the back—Nathaniel’s initials, neat and understated. It’s still beautiful, a piece I’ve cherished from the moment he gave it to me.
But now, it feels different beneath my touch, even though I can’t immediately discern anything suspicious about it.
I set the necklace down on the counter, the cool weight of it leaving an imprint on my palm. But even without it around my neck, I can’t shake the unease that coils in my chest.
My traitorous mind drifts to all the times Nathaniel has known things he shouldn’t. Conversations I had over text or whispered calls with friends and family. Casual plans I hadn’t yet mentioned, already accounted for in his mind. At first, it was small things—like knowing which friend I was meeting before I’d told him, or what we’d decided to do.
But then there was that final Castor & Wyatt interview… I swallow hard.
I’d kept it from him intentionally. Still, he was able to not just find out that it was happening, but exactly who I was meeting with. He was even able to put in a good word…
My suspicions had stirred then, but between the chaos of going back home abruptly and the implosion that followed left me no emotional bandwidth to dwell on it. I told myself I must’ve mentioned it in passing and forgotten. That he was just…perceptive.
However, with that memory pressing against the others, a realization surfaces—Ashby. I never told him the address of my family home. Yet, somehow, he showed up at the front door without missing a beat.
The thought slips into my mind, uninvited—could he have hacked my phone?
The suspicion strikes fast and cold. It feels extreme, but I can’t ignore the possibility. There’s a pattern here, one I’ve refused to see.
I drag a hand through my hair, trying to steady the rush of anxiety pooling in my chest. I need air. Space.Actual space.
Confronting Nathaniel isn’t an option—not now. His presence unravels me, and I know the moment his aquamarine eyes meet mine, any resolve I have will slip through my fingers like water. I can’t think clearly when he’s close. I have to leave before he returns.
My mind works quickly, trying to thread together a plan. I’ve bought myself a little time by sending him to The Nook, but if I want to go, I have to leavenow.
I stand abruptly, the scrape of the chair against the floor cutting through the silence as I lift the necklace from the counter. My legs feel unsteady as I cross the penthouse, moving toward the bedroom we now share.
Inside, everything feels too pristine, too carefully arranged—his touch is everywhere, from the way he folds the blankets to the small vase of peonies he placed on the dresser, because he knows they’re my favorite. It all suddenly feels suffocating.
I move to my nightstand and set the necklace down with a quietclink. The diamond catches the soft morning light, and I hesitate. Letting it go feels strange, almost symbolic—like cutting a cord I’m not sure I’m ready to sever.
I exhale and step back, brushing my fingers over the chain one last time before pulling away. Turning to my phone, I hold down the power button until the screen fades to black.
If he’s tracking me through this, it ends here.
I pack quickly—just an overnight bag with a few essentials, casual clothes. Nothing that will suggest I’m going far or for long. The goal is to slip away unnoticed, not to leave a trail.
By the time I step past the door and into the hall, I barely glance back. The air outside feels thinner, but I keep walking. Nathaniel’s return looms at the edges of my mind, but for the first time in weeks, I allow the distance to grow between us.
My heart is finallyable to settle once I check into a hotel. The sterile white sheets and steady hum of the air conditioner feel unfamiliar, but that’s the point.
The place smells faintly of cheap detergent, and a piece of generic watercolor art hangs crookedly over the bed—a far cry from the hyper-curated calm of Nathaniel’s apartment.
