“Right. It’s better this way,” he agrees sharply, his eyes intense. Resolute. “We both have enough complications right now.”
He’s right. I have a baby on the way, a vindictive ex to avoid, and he has a little girl still grieving her mother. Besides, I don’t want to get hurt. I want to focus on myself and what’s ahead for me.
“I’m not looking for anything,” I promise him.
“Same. It was a moment. It doesn’t have to be anything more. Itcan’tbe anything more.”
I nod, ignoring the odd sensation that settles in my stomach at that. Probably more morning sickness. “Right. A moment.” Iclear my throat. “We should finish up if we’re going to make that movie.”
I turn away from him and go for the box of my shoes, giving him my back as I put them away. I don’t even know why I brought it up again, other than I can’t stop thinking about it, and then he had to go and apologize and fuck me up more.
But it’s done. We’ve officially talked about it more than once, and it’s over.
I feel his eyes on me, the weight of everything surrounding us, and despite what we just said to each other, when I glance over my shoulder at him, I see it. All the things we say on the surface and all the things we’re both burying. Last night changed us, and not in a good way. We’re playing a dangerous game pretending we can live together and work together, while maintaining a careful distance.
But I’ve made enough mistakes already, and I can’t afford another. Especially not with Aston. So, I straighten my spine and continue to put away shoes and purses, and after another second, he leaves, closing the door behind him and allowing me to finally take a breath.
Forest’s townhousegleams in the Sunday afternoon light, all sleek surfaces and floor-to-ceiling windows that show off the Boston skyline across the harbor we sit almost directly above. He’s only been living here for a couple of months. A bribe from his parents if he moved back to Boston from LA and took over the Abbott Foundation, which my grandmother’s family started generations ago. His father, Kaplan, was the CEO, but he’s a surgeon at the hospital with me, so Forest’s mother was essentially running it.
Forest always swore he’d never move back here. Bostonholds demons for him, but I’m happy he did even if I’m not sure he’s quite sold yet.
“Do you actually live here?” I tease. We’re up in his crow’s nest on the third floor, and to say it’s sparsely furnished is putting it mildly.
He rolls his dark eyes at me. “Yes. I haven’t had time to buy a lot of furniture, and when I sold my place in LA, I sold it furnished. It’s weird living here. I grew up in this townhouse. Maybe that’s why I’m having trouble furnishing it.”
“I get that,” Crew agrees. “I haven’t bought much for my place yet either.”
“You would if you’d let me take you shopping for stuff,” Quinn bites out at her twin.
“We should all go furniture shopping then. It’ll be fun.”
Hayes tilts his head at me. “What’s up with you? You seem… off.”
I am off. And after Aston and I told Zoey that we were wearing rings because we’re special friends who care a lot about each other, she was like a different kid. Curious and not quite getting it, but happy to hear that I was going to be living with them for a while. We didn’t use the term “married,” but she’ll hear it sooner or later, and I know Aston is worried about that and the implications of it for her.
Braelyn is keeping her face in her sub, taking a massive bite and washing it down with her soda, since this is Forest’s place, and we never drink here with him since he’s sober.
“You know something,” Roman accuses her, staring down his best friend, trying to read her, which he’s insanely good at. It’s likely what makes him unstoppable as a boxer. Or an underground street fighter. Whatever you want to call what he does as a side gig.
“Ha! You’re crazy,” she garbles around her bite. “I know nothing, Jon Snow.”
“You just misquotedGame of Thrones,” he tells her. “That means you do.”
I sigh. Might as well rip the Band-Aid off. I already did it twice this weekend, first with my mother and then with my father when he called me last night. That was a fun conversation. And yes, that’s sarcasm.
“I married Aston on Friday.” For some reason, that’s easier to lead with than that I’m pregnant.
Everyone gapes at me, eyes wide, shock all over the damn place.
“Umm…” Quinn trails off, twirling her reddish-brown hair around her fingers. “Did you say youmarriedhim? Were you trashed? Is this like a Vegas thing? Like what Mason and Sorel did?”
“No. It wasn’t like that. It was here in Boston.”
She’s flabbergasted. Everyone is. “How? Why?” She shakes her head, at a total loss.
“Wait.” Hayes comes over and sits beside me. “You married Aston? As in married him, married him? You’re serious?” He yanks my left hand onto his lap. I’m still wearing the diamond, but tonight it’s going back in the box. “Shit, Skylar. What the actual fuck?” He holds up my left hand for everyone to see.
“That’s a fucking rock he put on you.” Roman blinks at me. “This is fucked up. What’s going on?”
