Chapter 7 Connor
Connor
Teresa padded into the kitchen dressed in black pants and a fitted polo with an embroidered spa logo, her pastel pink hair catching the morning light.
She stopped short when she saw me. “Connor, I didn’t know you were back.”
“Hey,” I said, straightening and adjusting my glasses. “I texted you.”
She patted her pants for her phone, then shrugged. “Must’ve missed it.” Her gaze bounced between Hannah and me, assessing. “I see you’ve met my sister?”
Looking between them, I wondered how I missed it. They had the same bone structure, same fair skin, similar height. But where Hannah pulled her blonde hair back in a practical ponytail and moved with quiet efficiency, Teresa’s pink hair and easygoing nature filled the space with wilder energy.
How had I lived with Teresa for six months and never known she had a sister?
“Yeah, I introduced myself,” I said.
“Technically you didn’t,” Hannah said. “You just mansplained your drink.”
“I can’t be blamed for my exacting specifications,” I replied, and warmth bloomed in my chest when her mouth quirked up.
Teresa hopped onto the counter beside the stove, her eyes ping-ponging between us with growing interest. “Wait, did you two know each other in New York or something?”
My attention sharpened. “You lived in New York?”
“Until April,” Hannah said, too casually.
“She's being modest," Teresa bragged. "She worked on Wall Street."
“No, I worked near Wall Street. You make me sound like an investment banker,” Hannah’s voice came out crisp, almost defensive.
“It was near Canal Street,” Teresa said with a playful grin. "All I cared about when I visited was Gucci knockoffs and that incredible dim sum place."
Hannah laughed, but her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.
Teresa looked between us again. “Hey, actually—since I have you both here. I was going to tell you this later, Hannah, but…” She paused, and Hannah’s shoulders tensed. “Eddie asked me to move in with him.”
Hannah’s smile was genuine but strained. “That’s great!”
“I’ll wait until the lease is up in February,” Teresa said to me. “But I figure you’re pretty much moved out anyway, so that should work out.”
“That works for me,” I said neutrally.
Teresa squeezed Hannah’s shoulder. “And you’ll be back on your feet by then, right? Those HR assholes can’t blacklist you forever. You’re too good at your job for them to keep shutting you out.”
Hannah pulled Teresa into a hug, tucking her face into her sister’s neck. I looked away, giving her the privacy of that moment—but I’d seen the tears she was trying to conceal.
And while I looked away, I remembered headlines I’d read in March about a scandal—accounting fraud, buried audits, a senior accountant who’d tried to report internally, and when their reports were ignored, they went to the SEC and brought the whole thing down.
Teresa pulled back, checked her watch, and swore. “Shit, I need to go. The Moreno wedding party is coming in at nine.”
Hannah handed her a bacon and egg sandwich and travel mug that had clearly been poured in advance. She planted a kiss on Hannah’s cheek, waved to me, and then Teresa was gone in a blur of pink hair and spa uniform.
The apartment settled into silence.
Hannah plated eggs, bacon, and toast, and carried two plates to the small table. She sat down and immediately tore into her toast.
I stared at the plate she’d set in front of the other chair. When was the last time someone had made me breakfast? Not grabbed coffee on the way to work, not a breakfast meeting with Victoria. Actually cooked for me. Made a plate and set it down like it was normal to take care of someone else.
She’d made me breakfast. I should tell her I know. She shouldn’t have to keep hiding—not here, not from me.