He grunted.
“Recreational. Kink stuff, y’know?” she said, hoping to gross him out enough to drop it. It didn’t work.
“Who’s the bloke?”
“Why does it matter?” Tabby said, painfully aware of how nervous she sounded.
He shrugged. “Know what you’re doing?”
“I always do.” Determined to at least try to play it cool, she sauntered to the fridge and pulled out the milk. She felt Noah watching her. He’d never been one to judge, but there was something strange about the way he was talking and staring. She whirled around. “I’m allowed to have dudes over; I’m not sixteen. Actually, I was allowed to have dudes over when Iwassixteen. Dad thought the Swedish model of sexual acceptance prevented safety issues.”
Noah’s nostrils flared. God help him if he and Nix had a daughter. Speaking of which...
“How’s the baby?” she asked as chirpily as possible. “Still healthy?”
The instant she said it, she knew she’d fucked up. Noah’s face went blank, and in the strained seconds that followed, he picked up his plate and slammed it hard on the table. It shattered, spraying porcelain and crumbs everywhere.
Tabby felt a cold thrill of terror. “No. She didn’t…? Tell me the baby’s okay?”
Noah stood so fast his chair fell over, his massive chest heaving like a storm. “I recognised the voice.”
“What?”
“The guy,” he said, pointing to the hall. “You fucking Toby?”
Shiiiiiiiiiiiiit.
“No,” she lied. “Yes. Does it matter? How’s Nix? What happened?”
“You already know what happened,” Noah said, and his flat tone was more frightening than anger.
“I’m so sorry,” Tabby gasped, and found she was already crying, tears dripping down her face onto her boar t-shirt.
“It’s your fucking mother,” Noah said in that same chilling voice. “Coming around, stirring up drama. It’s the fucking stress.”
“I’m so sorry. Noah, I’m so fucking?—”
“Stay where you are! There’s shit on the floor!”
Tabby hadn’t even realised she was moving toward him. She backed away so fast she bumped the back of her head on the fridge door. She let out a cry, and Noah’s face crumpled. “Tabs…”
“It’s fine,” she gasped, still gushing tears like an asshole. “How’s Nix? Does she need company? Or should I call or?—”
Noah rushed toward her, pulling her into his arms and hugging her so hard he knocked the breath from her. He smelled of cigarettes and aftershave—like beer and like home.
“I’m sorry,” he rasped, and she realised, to her utter shock, that he was crying too. They stood there together, crying and hugging and hugging and crying, and all Tabby could think was that this was the fourth miscarriage Nix had had in two years—four sons or daughters or whoever that Noah would never meet.
Digging her fingers into her brother’s shoulders, Tabby let out a howl that was more wolf than human—a wail of grief that shook her to her bones. If Jo had appeared before her just then, Tabby would have hit her. Who was she to have left? To have been so reckless with the love Nix was dying to experience?
“I’m so fucking angry,” she sobbed. “I could fuckingkill.I’m so angry.”
“I know,” Noah said, refusing to let go of her. “I’m so sorry for being a cunt, Tabs. I love you.”
And despite everything that had happened, warmth blazed in her chest because he’d never said that before. And because she loved him too, with her whole heart, as a friend and brother. He was the first man to ever make Nix happy. The second man Tabby trusted—and loved—after her dad. But at that moment, as clear as anything, was the knowledge that she loved a third man.
Toby fucking Tennant, crypto cunt and owner of a Lamborghini. A guy who was content to fuck her, then climb out a window and go home.
“I am so screwed,” she muttered to herself. “Jesus…”
