Page 140 of Suite 7

“Lately it feels like you’re not here. Even when you’re sitting right next to me.”

The words settle somewhere behind my sternum. Not sharp. Heavier than sharp — the weight of being accurately named by someone who loves you.

“I’m not angry.” She looks up. “I just miss you.” Her voice drops on the last three words, loses the careful steadiness she came in with. “You’ve changed since Gerald came along. You’re somewhere else most of the time. You won’t tell me anything real about him.” A pause. “Your relationship with him doesn’t feel like privacy. It feels like hiding.”

My hands are wrapped around my coffee cup. I don’t say anything.

There’s nothing to say that isn’t the truth.

“You know what would cheer me up?” Sloane says, reaching for more cream cheese.

“What?”

“A good Sinclair-Beckett Smackdown.” She’s smiling slightly now. “It’s been so quiet lately. No dishwasher wars. No stories about Kane mansplaining load-bearing walls. Nothing.”

“It’s because we haven’t seen each other much.”

“I should just invite him over,” she says, already brightening at the idea. “Sit back with my coffee and watch you two go at it. Honestly, it would be deeply restorative.”

“We don’t perform on command, Sloane.”

She laughs. “You absolutely do. You’ve been verbally sparring since the day you met. It’s part of who you are together.” A pause, the smile settling into something more thoughtful. “Which is why it’s a little weird that it’s gone quiet. That’s not distance. You two could argue through a wall.”

“Maybe people change.”

Something in my voice makes her look at me more carefully.

“Vera.” Her head tilts. “You’re not about to tell me you have a crush on my brother, are you?”

The bagel turns to sawdust in my mouth.

“What?”

“Okay, okay!” She laughs. “I’m kidding. Jesus, you should see your face.”

I force a laugh. Hollow. Brittle.

She sobers, picking at her bagel. “I just — what you two have is good, you know? In its own chaotic way. Nine years of arguments and neither of you has actually killed the other. That’s something.” She looks up. “You’re one of the few people who doesn’t let him get away with anything. He needs that. And you—“ She pauses. “You need someone who pushes back. He does that. It works because it’s safe. Because it’s just— you two being you two. I’d rather keep that exactly as it is than watch it turn into something that ends badly and takes both of you from me.”

The coffee cup becomes numb between my hands.

“I know what happens when people I love date each other,” she says, quieter now. “I’ve watched it go wrong before. And I can’t—“ She stops. “I just can’t lose both of you.”

“What do you mean?”

Sloane looks at her coffee cup for a long moment.

“Remember Sidney? My friend from high school? I said the friendship ended but didn’t say why.”

Oh god.

“Yeah,” I manage.

She traces the rim of her mug. “When we were teenagers we were best friends. Like you-and-me level close. Did everything together. Knew each other’s secrets.” A pause. “Until she developed a crush on Kane.”

My chest goes tight.

“He was seventeen. She was sixteen and pretty and interested.” Sloane’s voice is careful. Measured. Like she’s handled these pieces so many times she knows exactly where the sharp edges are. “They hooked up at a party. Started dating officially. Lasted about four months.”