I set the bubble phone on the counter and glance around the half-unpacked, newly furnished loft.
Tribeca. Tenth floor. Smaller than my penthouse by a mile. But at least there’s a doorman and no ghosts of my cheating ex’s past. Just clean walls and silence calling itself peace.
As I peer through the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city stretches beneath me, gray, restless, and alive in ways that feel like a personal insult.
A meow pulls my attention to the couch. Stripe and Shadow are curled together on a throw blanket, two warm knots of fur against a couch I pictured her curled up next to me on, laughter spilling out like it had nowhere else to go. Damn. She has the best laugh.
Their playpen sits by the window, a few toys scattered across the mahogany floor. At least they’ve adjusted though Shadow’s been less playful than usual.
I miss her, too, girl.
My penthouse is still on the market. Buyers came yesterday to haul off the furniture that sold, funds split evenly per the divorce agreement. Thankfully, Jenna The Ex has stayed civil. I couldn’t handle her passive-aggressive theatrics on top of true heartbreak.
Ugh. I should’ve stayed single in Crystal Cove. Regardless, Cami helped me feel again. I just didn’t expect it to be loveandloss.
I came across that signed contract the other day.
No strings.
No real-world talk.
No falling in love.
Guess two out of three isn’t bad.
Rolling my shoulders back, I let out a breath that feels heavier than air.
The room answers with its own echo. No sound except contentedgremlinpurrs around me.
“Guess it’s just us three now.” I crouch to scratch under Stripe’s chin. “Not quite the same, is it, little guy?”
He blinks up at me like I’ve interrupted something sacred, then sinks back against Shadow’s side.
A chirp cuts through the quiet. My heart jerks.Cami.
I’m halfway across the room before it hits me. Wrong damn phone.
The real-life one. The one that only ever buzzes for work, bills, or reminders of a world that keeps moving without her.
Mont: Hey. I know you’re tied up this week with the new place and all. Just checking in about Monday. Still planning on coming? Frankie’s looking forward to working alongside you.
I stare at the screen until the words blur.
Of course reality doesn’t stop, even when the universe is kicking my ass.
I should text back. Confirm. Pretend I’m fine.
But the truth is, I’m not sure I’ve got it in me to play mentor right now.
My head’s still in Crystal Cove. Still tangled in a game of two truths and a lie.
Me: Wouldn’t miss it. Thanks, Mont.
I hit send before I can stop myself. Another untruth, ironed and folded into routine.
Another text whooshes in almost instantly.
Mont: Hear from her yet?
