Page 34 of Everything But Mine

“Well, I need to think about it.” Her smile mirrors mine. “In the meantime,” she adds, “I need a favor.”

I nod.

“I need to get my crap out of Daray’s apartment. Help me?”

It builds between us; a tenuous understanding of what’s coming. As if we’re on the edge of something wild, and for once, maybe we’re stepping into it together.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

AMANDA

The elevator doors open to a dimly lit carpeted hallway. It smells the same. Cheap air freshener, burned oil from 3F, a whiff of incense from 3E, and pungent tobacco from 3D. The chemical edge clings to the carpet, trying to make it seem clean even when the bleach stains make it worse. We finally reach 3C. The 3 is missing from the gold lettering. I used to think of this as home.

Now, I just want to get my stuff and go.

Daray opens the door before I knock. He doesn’t wave or smile. He just leans against the frame like he’s been waiting. Barefoot, sweatpants, T-shirt.

“Hey,” he says. He doesn’t move aside. He scans the three of us—me, then Eric, then Diego—and lands back on me with that half-smirk he uses when he’s trying to seem casual. Trying not to look pissed.

“You brought backup,” he says, his eyes glinting with annoyance. “I cleared my afternoon to help.”

Diego is the first to respond. “Yeah, man. You know we wouldn’t let her do this alone.” He steps forward, lifting his fist in greeting.

Daray stares him down, bottom to top. “You don’t need to pretend to like me.”

Diego shafts back, eyes flicking my way. Eric, on the other hand, doesn’t blink, countering, “Well, now you get your afternoon back to yourself.”

Daray hums, and dusts off his shoulder. His gaze sweeps past Diego and focuses on Eric. A storm of annoyance brews in his brown eyes.

“Didn’t realize you two were still BFFs.”

“Daray.” Exhaustion turns my voice too forgiving, eager to diffuse. “We’ll be quick.”

Eric has a different plan, though. “I’ve been in her life for a long time. Not planning on changing that.” His tone is thick with brusqueness, not rude. Just… done.

Daray turns back to me, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. His eyes land on my chest. “You look like you’re drowning in Ben & Jerry’s. It’s all gone to your tits. You doing okay?”

There’s the fake concern Daray is famous for.

Eric bristles, his spine straightening. When he takes a step toward Daray, I stop him, placing my hand flat on his chest.

“Don’t be a dick, Daray. We’re here to get my crap and leave you be.”

As insulting as it is, I’d prefer him to think I’m drowning in sorrow and ice cream than suspect I’m keeping a pregnancy secret from him. I’ll play the part, buy myself time.

Daray’s smile widens. “I boxed up most of your stuff,” he says to me now. “Kitchen and living room are done. Would’ve appreciated it if you’d made this a bit higher on your priority list. Cassie’s tired of not having a place for her clothes.”

It hasn’t even been three weeks, asshole, I think. “Thanks.”

Eric steps into my palm, and I press harder against him, sensing he’s one nasty comment away from lashing out at Daray.

“It’ll be out of her way today.”

Eric breaks eye contact with Daray. He looks at me, then Diego. One would miss it if they didn’t know what to look for. Diego shakes his head. They’re going to let it all go, but Daray isn’t on board.

“Bro, she isn’t your girl. Don’t be pissing all around her.” He’s putting Crocs on, not even dignifying the comment with his full attention.

Eric’s jaw tightens. I drag my arm around him until my fingers dig into his side. Diego is squaring up now.