Colton
Sunday morning arrives too soon.
I barely slept. Not because of regret, but because my body still hasn’t figured out how to come down from Friday night. From Melissa. From the way she looked, how she tasted, hair mussed, lips swollen, eyes still soft with something that felt dangerously close to intimacy.
I tell myself I’m fine. That this is manageable. That I’ve handled worse than a woman who makes me feel things I can’t categorize.
Then my phone rings. My sister Aubrey.
I stare at it for a moment before answering.
“What?” I say—because with my sister, politeness is optional.
“You’re coming to dinner,” she announces.
I close my eyes. “That wasn’t a question.”
“Nope. It was a courtesy warning. I’m outside.”
I glance toward the windows in time to see her car pull up from the security cameras I have on the front of the building.
Of course she is.
“You’re relentless.”
“And you love me,” she says brightly. “Ten minutes.”
She hangs up before I can protest.
By the time we’re on the road, she’s already talking about work, about some contractor who tried to overcharge her, about a coworker’s dramatic breakup. Anything except the reason she dragged me out of my penthouse on the one day I’d planned to do absolutely nothing.
I keep my focus on the road, hands steady on the wheel, jaw already tight.
“You’re being quiet,” she says.
“I’m driving.”
“You always drive like you’re transporting a heart for transplant,” she replies. “Relax. We’re not in a rush.”
I don’t respond.
We pass through Manhattan and over a bridge, and then the city begins to thin, the skyline turning into a distant shape behind us. It always feels like crossing into another life—one I don’t belong to anymore.
Aubrey watches me from the passenger seat.
“You look different,” she says finally.
I glance at her. “Differenthow?”
She smirks. “Looser. Distracted. Like you haven’t been a complete asshole all weekend.”
I huff a humorless laugh. “High praise.”
“I mean it,” she presses. “You seem … lighter.”
My grip tenses around the steering wheel.
“Don’t start,” I warn.
