He waits. “Want to eat?”
“No.”
Drew’s face does that thing again—concern mixed with suspicion.
“Okay,” he says slowly. “I’m just going to say it and accept whatever happens after.”
I turn my head a fraction. “Drew.”
“She didn’t come by,” he blurts.
Pure, deadly silence.
Drew swallows. “And before you say anything, yes, I know you told me not to, but?—”
“Stop.”
He freezes.
I walk past him into the kitchen, open the fridge, and stare inside like she might be hiding behind the vegetables.
She’s not.
Drew follows, keeping his distance. His tone is careful when he speaks. “I just… thought you’d want to know.”
I grab a bottle of water and twist the cap too hard.
“Why would I want to know that?” I ask, my voice mild.
Drew stares. “Because you’ve been acting like a man who’s waiting for the apocalypse and thinks it might show up in the form of a brunette with boundary issues.”
I take a long drink.
Drew sighs. “Also, I’m worried.”
I set the bottle down. “About what?”
He gestures vaguely. “About you. About her. About thefact that I’m living inside an unhinged romance novel, and didn’t consent to it.”
I stare at him. Drew stares back.
Then his shoulders drop. “Okay. Fine. Here’s the real reason.”
I wait.
He takes a breath. “What if something happened to her?”
My body goes still.
Does he know something?
Drew rushes on. “She’s always around. She’s always…there.And now she’s not. And I know you’re going to pretend you don’t care, but?—”
“I didn’t say I don’t care.” The words are out before I can stop them.
Drew’s mouth opens. Closes.
“Well,” he says faintly. “Okay then.”
