He grins against my mouth. “Tell me it’s not worth it.”
I roll my eyes and dart toward the bathroom before he can distract me again. Steam fills the shower, hot water pounding against my shoulders as I try to mentally shift my brain into work mode. Emails. Patients. Meetings. Real life.
But the weekend lingers under my skin, and my stomach flips as I recall the slow mornings, shared meals, the easy way we kept finding each other without thinking. I think about how natural everything felt. About how normal it was waking up in his bed like I already belong there. I smile to myself, rinsing shampoo from my hair.
By the time I turn off the water, I can smell coffee brewing from the kitchen, and the music Mikey likes to listen to is on low. It’s the kind of quiet domestic noise that makes something warm bloom in my chest. I wrap my robe around myself and step into the bedroom, drying my hair.
Mikey stands near the bed, jeans buttoned, belt hanging loose. My phone is in his hand. He glances up, expression shifting the moment he sees me. “Sorry.” He lifts the phone slightly, thumb brushing the edge. “It kept ringing.”
I stop, suddenly aware of a small shift in him. It’s subtle, but it’s there, and suddenly I’m curious who the call could have been from. “Who was it?”
He sets the phone down on the table next to the bed, fingers lingering for a second before pulling away to grab his shirt off the bed. “Your realtor.”
The words land soft, but my stomach flips anyway. He runs a hand through his hair, gaze dropping briefly before meeting mine again. “The apartment on Southport is yours if you want it. She said to call her back.”
Now I understand why the air feels different. It’s not tense, just quieter. “Oh.” I reach for my phone, fingers brushing the warm spot where his hand had been.
“Thanks.” I glance up at him again, studying his face this time instead of my phone. “You okay?”
He stills for half a second. Not long. Most people wouldn’t notice. I do. “Yeah,” he says easily, too easily. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
I shrug, trying to keep it light. “I don’t know. Just felt like the room got a little heavier.”
His mouth tips slightly at that, like he almost smiles but doesn’t. “Maybe you’re just overthinking it.”
“Maybe,” I echo, but I don’t quite believe it. I shift my weight, fingers tightening around my phone. “Mikey, I haven’t decided anything yet.”
And I feel that hit with him. Not heavy. Not dramatic, but real. He gaze flicks back to mine, something unreadable passing before it smooths out. “Yeah, you should take your time with that.” And then he nods, shifting toward the dresser, pulling his shirt over his head. The moment slides away as quickly as it arrived, as he tosses over his shoulder. “We’re seriously late.”
I laugh softly, trying to shake the strange feeling that settled between us. We move around each other in familiar chaosgrabbing bags, hunting for keys, stealing quick sips of coffee. At the door he leans down, pressing a fast kiss to my mouth. Warm. Familiar. Slightly rushed. “See you tonight.”
“Okay, have a good day at the studio.”
Then he’s gone.
Work swallows me whole. Emails. Intense conversations with patients. The steady rhythm of the day. But my mind keeps drifting back to the bedroom. The way he held my phone. The slight pause before he said apartment. I shake it off. He was probably just distracted. We were late. I’m sure it’s nothing more. Still, the thought lingers.
Before this weekend, the apartment felt simple. A temporary solution. A practical choice. Now it feels heavier. Like it means something I’m not ready to define. By late afternoon I cave and call Sadie. She answers almost immediately.
“Hey little sister, how was the rest of your weekend?”
“It was good.” I smile without even realizing I am.
“Well, don’t you sound suspiciously happy?” I can hear her grinning through the phone.
I laugh, leaning back in my chair. “Do I?”
“My phone is actually glowing. Spill.”
I hesitate for half a second, then everything tumbles out about the weekend, the way we barely left the apartment, how easy everything felt. Not details. Just the feeling of it.
Her approval warm and knowing. “That sounds really nice.”
“It was.” My fingers brushing over lips that won’t seem to stop tilting up today. “It just felt easy.”
“And that’s scary?”
I sigh. “A little.” I pause before spilling the rest of my news. “This morning my realtor called. That cute apartment I told you I looked at? It’s mine if I want it.”
