Page 147 of Romeo

Ma Belle: And?

I smiled. There was my answer. She wanted to know.

Me: Cher, I’d walk the last hundred miles.

The phone stayed quiet.

Jack shook his head, but there wasn’t much teasing left in his expression. “You’re in deep, brother.”

It was true, and the strange thing was, I’d stopped thinking of that as a problem.

Fiona might eventually tell me something that changed the shape of what I knew about her. Whatever she was carrying had enough weight to make her afraid of my reaction, and I had no idea what waited on the other side of that conversation.

Still, if she called me tomorrow and asked me to come, I wouldn’t need twenty dollars from Jack.

I’d find my own way.

Ma Belle: That was very good

I stared at it.

Jack leaned closer. “What’d she say?”

“None of your fucking business.”

He laughed and went back to his beer.

I slipped my phone into my pocket, but the warmth of her answer stayed with me.

Five texts.

I’d won the bet, but the twenty bucks felt like the least important thing I’d gotten out of it.

By Tuesday night, the clubhouse had been chewing through every ounce of patience I possessed.

I sat against the headboard in my room with my phone resting on my chest, listening to footsteps pass in the hall outside. Club business had swallowed most of the week. Every time I thought things might settle, someone needed something else, another conversation went sideways, or another problem landed in front of us.

Somewhere along the way, my conversations with Fiona had shrunk with everything else.

I still answered her.

Mostly.

A few words here. A quick response there. Nothing like the hours we normally wasted arguing about breakfast, music, or whatever ridiculous question one of us invented.

I’d told myself she didn’t need the version of me left after everything here had taken its share. That sounded noble enough until Fiona stopped reaching out.

No message tonight.

Nothing the night before either.

I opened our conversation and scrolled back.

The change was obvious when I actually looked at it. Fiona hadn’t suddenly disappeared. She’d stopped trying after I made every conversation feel like she was interrupting something more important.

Well done, asshole.

I typed before I could overthink it.