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.
