“Staring at her like you’re trying to solve a puzzle.” He follows my gaze. “What’s going on with you two?”
I don’t know how to answer that. On the surface, everything’s fine. She’s still at my place. We still sleep in the same bed—mybed. Last night after a marathon of sex, she fell asleep with her head on my chest, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on my skin.
But something’s changed. Something I can’t quite name.
“She’s pulling away,” I say.
“She’s literally living with you.”
“I know. But emotionally, she’s... somewhere else.” I watch her pocket her phone with more force than necessary, then plaster on a smile as she rejoins the fundraiser meeting. “Ever since Atlanta, she’s been different.”
“Different how?”
“Her phone’s always blowing up. She won’t tell me who’s messaging her, but I can guess.” My jaw clenches. “And she’s not sleeping well. I wake up and she’s downstairs at 3 AM working on vendor contracts that don’t need to be done until next week.”
Blake’s quiet for a moment. “You think it’s the ex-business partner?”
“I know it is. I’ve seen glimpses of the messages when she forgets to turn off her phone. He’s relentless. And she’s trying to handle it alone.”
“Did you talk to her about it?” Blake asks.
“Tried. She says it’s under control, that Patricia, her lawyer, is handling it.” I run a hand through my hair. “But if it’s under control, why does she flinch every time her phone buzzes? Why is she barely eating?”
“Maybe because she’s stressed about a massive fundraiser?” Blake suggests.
He’s probably right. But my gut says otherwise.
Through the window, Ember’s phone lights up again. She glances at it, and I see her face go pale before she turns the screen off and continues talking to Uncle Jimmy like nothing happened.
That’s the fifth time this meeting alone.
“I need to get back to work,” I mutter, turning away before I do something stupid like march in there and demand to know what’s going on.
Blake catches my arm. “Ry. Don’t push too hard. If she needs space to work through this?—”
“She’s living in my house. She sleeps in my bed. How am I supposed to give her space?”
“Emotional space,” he clarifies.
I know he’s right. But knowing it and accepting it are two very different things.
That evening,I come home to find Ember in the kitchen, laptop open, phone buzzing beside her. She’s ignoring it, her fingers flying across the keyboard with manic energy.
“Hey,” I say softly, not wanting to startle her.
She jumps anyway, hand flying to her chest. “God, you scared me.”
“Sorry.” I set my keys down. “Long day?”
“You could say that.” She doesn’t look up from her screen. “Catering company wants to renegotiate their fee. The tent rental is worried about the weather forecast. And the sound system vendor just informed me they double-booked and might not be available.”
“Can they do that?”
“Apparently.” Her laugh is hollow. “But I’ll figure it out. I always do.”
Her phone buzzes again. And again. Three messages in rapid succession.
She stares at the screen, her face draining of color.
