“Why not?”Cally asks, and his voice drops.
I gape at him.“Why not?”
He lifts a brow.“That’s not an answer.”
I throw my arms out.“It’s not what you signed up for when you decided to become my friend all those years ago.”
Cally scoffs, like I’m adorable and exhausting.“There are a lot of things I didn’t sign up for when I arrived at that camp.It was supposed to be one of the best.There was some guarantee I’d end up in the show.”
He grins, cocky and bright, the version of him that made me fall for him before I knew better.
“I did,” he says.“But I never thought it would also include falling in love, getting my heart broken, and still having the chance to have you in my life.”
When he says “heart broken,” he looks from me to Monty and sighs, and something in me twists.
Because somehow, I don’t think I’m the only one who broke him.And I’ve always wondered if what happened between them that night is what actually shattered the three of us.
Was Cally in love with Monty too?
Did Monty push him away?
Did we ruin each other in ways I’ve never fully understood?
My stomach turns, and not from the pregnancy.
From the possibility that I’ve been standing in the middle of a love story I never had the courage to read all the way to the end.
This isn’t a good time to be discussingthat.Not now.Not when my life is already spinning.I need to make sure they’re aware that this won’t work in the long run.
I square my shoulders like that’s a personality trait and not a coping mechanism.“That’s not—” I stop, because my voice wobbles and I hate it.I try again.“That’s not a reason for me to move in with you.”
“It’s the perfect reason.”Cally crosses his arms, expression maddeningly sane.Like we’re discussing furniture placement and not my entire life.“You need stability.Comfort.A place that actually feels like home.”
I let out a laugh that’s all teeth and zero joy.“Oh, sure.And that place should be your house?What’s next, you pick my prenatal vitamins too?”
Maybe I should remind him that he’s living in a hotel and this apartment is temporary.Neither he nor Monty have a house.
“No.”Cally’s grin flashes, quick and bright.“John already did.”
I glare at him, because he thinks he’s hilarious and I hate that my mouth twitches like it agrees.
“You should move in with us,” Monty says, and he doesn’t argue like a man trying to convince me.He states it like a man claiming something that’s already his.
The air shifts around his words.My skin notices.
“No.”
“Give us a good,logicalreason,” Cally challenges, because he’s infuriating and loving and built to chase me when I run.
“Because—because—” I gesture wildly at ...everything.Me.Them.My belly.The fact that my nervous system is currently doing cartwheels.“Because that’s not my life.I don’t have a home.My studio apartment is basically a closet with commitment issues.It’s a place to crash between projects.I don’t do homes.”I swallow.“Homes are permanent and for people who ...are not me, okay?”
Monty’s eyes do that thing where they narrow slightly, like he’s seeing straight through the joke and into the scared part of me.He doesn’t look away.
“Maybe it’s time you did,” he says.
I hate how quiet that is.How careful.
Like he’s not trying to trap me.Like he’s offering me a door and asking if I’d like to stop living in the hallway.
