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Opening my phone on the way to the kitchen after turning the TV on to Netflix, I see a new text from him.
Bishop: You saw Hunter’s story.
I find a packet of microwave popcorn, push three minutes, and fire off a reply.
Me: Yeah.
Bishop: She was pushed right off the second she fell on me. Did you do anything stupid last night?
I slam the microwave door closed and throw the inflated bag of popcorn onto the counter. Despite the fact that my mouth waters from the scent alone, my fingers fly over the keyboard.
Me: Why the fuck would you think that?
Bishop: I don’t know, Madison. Maybe because you’re so erratic lately.
I squeeze my eyes closed to count myself down. I’ll call Elena and Dad tomorrow. Maybe just being around family will make me not want to stab Bishop’s eyeballs out with a blunt spoon.
Gathering my popcorn and a bottle of water, I make my way into the dimly lit lounge, falling down onto the leather sofa. The Netflix logo flashes over my TV as I pop the bag open and place two puffed kernels into my mouth, my eyes rolling to the back of my head when the salted butter dissolves against my tongue. I scan through the horror genre, searching for something—anything to get my mind off the shitshow that is my relationship, when there’s a beep from the front desk.
Sighing and disappointed that I haven’t been able to shovel all this popcorn into my gob, I push the wool throw off my legs and make my way to the private elevator where the voice box is to contact the front desk.
“Yes?” I say into the little box.
“Ms. Montgomery, Nate is here to see you. Would you like me to let him in?”
Her name is Veronica Miles, and she has been a godsend since I’ve been living here. She’s fresh out of high school, so around our age, and just… gets it. I’m going to be sure to tell Bishop that she needs a pay raise because despite the fact she’s well aware how powerful the Kings are and who owns this place, she still made sure to check with me that I wanted a visitor.
“Thanks, V. Let him up.” I release the button and cross my arms in front of my chest, waiting for the doors to part. As soon as they ding, my arms fall to the sides of my body. Nate’s hair is ruffled, his eyes are lazy and weak, and I can smell the reek of expensive top shelf alcohol from a mile away.
“Nate—” All of my questions disappear as I launch forward and catch him around the waist, hooking his arm around my neck to move him into the kitchen. “God, you stink. Our parents aren’t going to be happy if you’ve been playing in the cellar again…”
He laughs, but it’s sleepily, much less drunk. “I’m coming down.”
“You don’t say…” I whisper, helping him onto the barstool and taking a coffee pod out of the drawer to place into the machine. I turn to face him, leaning against the granite counter. “Nate…” I pause.
What do you say to someone who has lost everything? There are no words that will make him feel better. Nothing that will help him mourn the loss of his baby daughter, and I know Nate. He doesn’t like to be pushed and chatted to. He came to me for a reason, and I know what that is. That’s because despite everything, Nate and I are soulmates. We’re the kind who just would have never worked out. I think in another life, we were probably some form of lovers, but again—it would never had been enough.
I clear my throat as the machine switches off, grabbing down two mugs.
Sliding one over to him, I point to the dark lounge room, faintly lit from the floor-to-ceiling windows that offer the perfect backdrop to any upscale apartment in New York City. “Wanna watch a movie with me? Like old times?”
Nate buries his fingers in his hair before pushing it back and raising his eyes to meet mine. Usually Nate hides his humanity behind a thick shield of dark humor, but right now, he’s laid it all out for me. My heart breaks and I find myself walking toward him, lowering myself beside him and watching as he sips on his coffee. He’s always known that he can break with me, because I’ll always pick up his pieces and put him back together.
Running my fingertip through the side of his hair, I rest my head on his shoulder. “You can watch a movie with me but on one condition.”
“And what’s that, Kitty?” His voice is thick with unshed emotion.
“You absolutely must have a shower.”
He chuckles, but it’s not his usual bouncy laugh. It’s a sad kind of melody that wants to hurt every one of its listeners. “Okay. I’ll watch with you.”
