Page 127 of None Of Your Business

“It’s just a little black pepper,” Ed assures me.

“Rowan is sensitive to heat,” Hudson says, his voice dropping low. He turns to me, his eyes gleaming. “Aren’t you, baby?”

I glare at him, but I keep my foot right where it is, even when my phone buzzes on the table.

Madison: I’m standing outside your house. Where are you?

I look at the screen, then at Eleanor, who’s trying to pass me more food. I look at Hudson, whose thumb is still moving against my thigh.

I type back one line.

Me: Having breakfast with my future in-laws. Leave a message.

I drop the phone face-down, take the food, and lean into Hudson’s shoulder as he laughs.

Thirty-Eight

The door opens before my hand even lands on the knocker.

Madison stands in the entryway looking like a stressed mother hen on the verge of a breakdown. Her hair is pulled back, her eyes are wide, and the second she sees me standing outside her apartment, her face shifts from panic to absolute certainty.

“Oh God,” she breathes, yanking me across the threshold and wrapping her arms around me so fast I stumble. “You’re pregnant.”

I choke on my own saliva.

Is it any surprise I’m dramatic, given that Madison is my sister?

Before I can even get a lungful of air to defend my virtue, Noah sticks his head out from the kitchen—a half-eaten apple in one hand—with Beckett hovering right behind him.

Noah’s head snaps toward me. The apple hits the counter. He storms across the living room like a man possessed.

“You’re pregnant?” he yells, his hands flying to his head. “I’m going to fucking kill him!”

“Oh my God, I’m not pregnant!” I shout back, wriggling out of Madison’s iron grip and holding my hands up. “Relax. Both of you. And for the record, Noah, I’m twenty-six, not sixteen.”

I step into Noah’s space before he can march out the door to commit homicide, grabbing his arms and pulling him into a hug.

“Hi, kid,” he mutters into my hair.

“Hi,” I whisper, pressing my face into his shoulder. “Missed you.”

“Missed you too,” he says, pulling back to give me a suspicious scan from head to toe. “You sure you’re not pregnant?”

I place a hand over my heart. “I swear on my life.”

He exhales and smooths down his shirt. “Good. I really didn’t want to go to prison today.”

We move into the living room, and Madison immediately rounds on me, her arms crossed over her chest. “Okay, then why were you avoiding me if you’re not pregnant?” She starts pacing the rug. “Because Beckett said Hudson was keeping secrets, and then you texted Noah an hour ago out of nowhere asking to meet here, and you’ve been dodging my calls for days. If you’re sleeping with Hudson, go girl. Hudson is great. He’s tall, he’s smart, he’s fine as hell. You get yours, Rowan.”

She’s rambling. Madison only rambles when her nerves are shot. She also has a terrifying sixth sense for family disasters. She knows something is wrong. She just hasn’t pinpointed the exact shape of the wreckage yet.

“I mean, look,” Madison continues, gesturing wildly. “Everyone needs a fling every now and then. You’ve been working hard, the show was a hit, you deserve a little fun—”

“He’s not a fling, Madi.”

The sentence drops into the living room like a lead weight.

Madison stops dead in her tracks. Noah’s jaw slacks. Even Beckett, standing quietly near the kitchen island, looks up.