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Neither of us is watching it.

She traces idle shapes on my forearm with her fingertip, not even realizing she’s doing it. The touch is absent-minded, familiar. The kind that assumes permission.

She shifts, stretching, pressing her face briefly into my chest with a quiet hum of contentment.

“This might be my favorite version of you,” she murmurs.

I glance down at her. “Lying horizontally?”

She chuckles. “Relaxed,” she corrects. “Unscheduled.”

I snort. “Highly overrated.”

She smiles, but doesn’t argue, simply settles back in like she’s exactly where she wants to be.

And that’s when my phone buzzes.

Once.

I ignore it.

A moment later, it buzzes again.

Melissa glances toward the sound. “You’re popular today.”

I don’t respond, my eyes fixed on the opposite wall. The third buzz comes less than a minute later.

She sits up slightly this time, propping herself on her elbow. “Is everything okay?”

I reach for my phone reluctantly and glance at the screen.

Aubrey.

Three missed calls.

A knot forms low in my stomach, immediate and familiar. My thumb hovers over the screen before I lock it and set it back down on the table, face down.

“It’s nothing,” I say.

Melissa studies me for a beat longer than necessary.

“It didn’t look like nothing,” she says gently.

I shrug, the movement stiff. “Just my sister.”

She doesn’t push, but she doesn’t look away either.

“Does she call often?” she asks.

I hesitate. “Sometimes.”

“And you usually ignore it?” she asks, still soft.

“I don’t ignore her,” I say, sharper than I meant to. “I just … don’t always answer right away.”

Her brows draw together slightly with curiosity. “Oh,” she says. “I didn’t mean it like?—”

“I know,” I interrupt, already regretting my tone.