“It’s not,” I promise. “Just … logistics.”
That definitely gets her attention. We drift a few steps away, toward the quieter edge of the room. She studies my face, already suspicious.
“I know our place is expensive,” I start. “And our lease is ending anyway.”
She narrows her eyes. “Melissa?—”
“I—well, I don’t want you to feel like you’re scrambling. Or like you have to figure something out alone.”
Her expression softens. “Okay …”
“I was thinking,” I continue carefully, “that maybe there’s an option for you to take your time finding a new place.”
She crosses her arms, waiting.
“And since Sawyer’s penthouse is basically a luxury hotel pretending to be a home,” I add, “and he’s gone half the time anyway …”
Her mouth drops open. “You are not suggesting?—”
“I am suggesting,” I say, “that you temporarily live with Sawyer. Strictly as a practical arrangement.”
Kayla stares at me for a full five seconds. Then she bursts out laughing.
“Oh my God,” she says. “You’re serious.”
“I am.”
She looks across the room to where Sawyer is now dramatically insisting the child cheated.
“You realize,” she says slowly, “this is the most rom-com thing that has ever happened to me.”
I grin. “I thought you might appreciate that.”
She considers it, tapping a finger against her lips. “If his place is massive, I guess I could avoid him if I wanted to.”
“Exactly.”
“And he travels constantly. And,” she adds thoughtfully, “it would drive him insane.”
I laugh. “Bonus.”
She looks back at me then—really looks at me—and something softer settles into her eyes.
“You okay?” she asks quietly.
I nod. “Yeah, I really am.”
She smiles, then pulls me into a hug so tight that it almost knocks the breath out of me.
“I’m proud of you,” she says. “You didn’t just survive. You chose something new.”
I pull back, blinking fast. “So did you, apparently.”
She smirks. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
Across the room, Sawyer catches Kayla’s eye and raises a brow, clearly wary. She gives him a smile that promises trouble.
Colton appears beside me a moment later, slipping his arm around my waist like it belongs there—because it does.
