Aubrey stands abruptly. “Okay, I’m starving. And I came with a purpose.”
“I’m sure you did,” I mutter.
She pulls her phone from her pocket. “I need you to come to dinner tonight.”
My stomach drops.
“No,” I say flatly.
Aubrey’s eyes narrow. “Yes.”
“I’m not doing this.”
“Colton …”
“I worked all week,” I bite out. “I’m off today. I’m not spending my only quiet night being interrogated by Mom.”
Aubrey flinches slightly, but her expression hardens. “This isn’t about Mom.”
“It’s always about Mom,” I say.
Melissa’s gaze flicks between us, the warmthdraining from her expression. She’s hearing the tension. Feeling it. Watching it unfold in real time.
Aubrey lowers her voice, a warning in it now. “We talked about this.”
“I’m not doing it,” I repeat.
“Colton,” she presses, and then the softness returns for a moment, “please.”
The word catches because she never sayspleaseunless she’s desperate.
My jaw clenches.
I can’t do this in front of Melissa.
I take a breath, forcing control back into my voice. “Aubrey,” I say evenly, “not right now.”
Her gaze flicks to Melissa. Then back to me. And I see the calculation.
She sighs. “Fine. Not right now.”
Aubrey’s tone brightens again, forced but functional. “I’ll text you,” she says, then turns to Melissa. “It was so nice to meet you.”
“You too,” Melissa says, genuine.
Aubrey steps closer to Melissa and lowers her voice in a way that still carries. “And I’m serious,” she adds. “He doesn’t let people in.”
Melissa’s throat bobs. “I … I’ve noticed.”
Melissa’s eyes flickto me again.
Aubrey turns toward the door, then pauses, looking back at me. Her gaze is sharp now, all sibling honesty. “Don’t shut this down,” she says quietly.
She doesn’t mean dinner. She means Melissa.
But before I can respond, Aubrey leaves, the door closing behind her with a soft click that sounds louder than it should in the quiet penthouse.
Melissa stands still for a moment, staring at the door.
