Snitch shot me a look. “No.”
Lottie wound her arm around mine, her wedding ring glowing brighter under the chandelier.
Just friends.
Friends who freak the fuck out when their friends don’t respond to their texts.
That’s normal.
Maybe this morning was an overreaction. I feel outside of my skin when I’m not around her. It’s not new that I don’t sleep. What is new is the reason. I lay awake now thinking about Snitch. Worried about her. I don’t like that I can’t see her.
I wasn’t sorry I showed up in her wing. I probably should be, but I’m not. When she didn’t respond, I started thinking of worst-case scenarios. What if she was passed out again? What if she was bleeding? And on and on, all of them worse than the next, until my heart felt like it was going to burst through my chest.
The fact that she’s pregnant with my kid just…I’m getting twisted thinking about it.
It doesn’t feel right leaving her alone.
Snitch made some excuse about getting more to drink. I slid out of Lottie’s grasp, eyes on her. “I’ll be right back.”
I followed her to the champagne tower.
“Is your phone broken?”
“I never thought I’d regret the day I gave Grayson Crowne my phone number,” Story said, reaching for a scone. “This doesn’t seem like very friendly behavior, Grayson.”
“Friends check up on each other. Where are your clothes?”
Snitch paused. “Gone.”
“What do you mean ‘gone’?”
“It doesn’t concern you.”
I gripped her bicep, forcing her to face me. “I said I would help you with anything, Snitch. Day or night.”
She shifted. “What happened to keeping it a secret? I was supposed to meet you secretly. Now what?” She looked over her shoulder, where West was consumed by the uncle who could start a five-minute story and somehow take an hour to finish.
“You didn’t answer my texts, Snitch.”
“Well now we can’t go to the doctor. If we’re both missing it will look suspiciou—”
She broke off as I wiped a bit of the jam from her lips, licking it off my thumb. She followed the movement with her eyes. It was like the beginning. When I could kiss her only in pieces. In stolen moments.
“We should get you new clothes, Snitch,” I said, voice rough. “But nothing like the ones my sister got you.”
“What kind of clothes would Grayson Crowne approve of?” she asked, voice quiet, raspy.
Fuck.
I’d missed that voice; it said some of her walls had fallen down. I’d taken it for granted. Snitch had put up so many walls…so many thorns around her heart.
For a moment I pretended we were in a world where I could speak truthfully, and I looked her up and down.
“I like you best in nothing.”
Her eyes widened as West wrapped his arm around her waist. “Fuck, I thought he would never finish his story. What are we talking about?”
“I need new clothes…” she said.