Chapter 20
Twenty
River
Heart full, I turn away from the elevator to see that Girls’ Night has taken over.
Rory is cuddling with Violet and baby Mia, declaring the living room, “Ground Zero for Gossip.”
Briar is raiding the kitchen and passing baked goods to Chrissy and Tiff, who are placing them neatly on trays they’re bringing over to the coffee table.
Marie is walking around the place, muttering about where the walls used to be and wondering if all the plumbing is brand new.
“I can’t believe they matched the floor that perfectly,” she murmurs, distractedly taking a tray Chrissy holds out and carrying it over to the table as well. Rory tugs her down beside her on the couch and passes her baby Mia, declaring, “Cute baby trumps house renovations.”
Marie bops Mia lightly on the nose and smiles. “Maybe.” She blows a raspberry. “Maybe not.”
“Rude,” Chrissy calls, but she’s smiling too.
Rory glances over at me, expression growing serious. “Quit hiding and explain yourself, missy.”
I sigh and grab the last tray Chrissy’s put together, carrying it over. She and Tiff follow with wine and juice for the preggo in our midst (Rory this go around). “There’s nothing to explain.”
The quiet that follows my statement calls silent bullshit on me.
“Um,” Rory eventually says, “want to try that again?”
“Not really.” I busy myself filling up plates—extra fruit tarts for Tiff, no coconut for Rory (it’s the one food she can’t stand during her pregnancy), cookies of all shapes and sizes for Marie, an even spread of everything for Chrissy.
I take my time with plating and with passing them out and with refilling everyone’s drinks, and with cutting a tiny bit of fruit up for Mia to gum at.
But even all that delaying doesn’t get me off the hook.
“Honey,” Tiff says gently, “even I wasn’t this delusional.”
Marie nods. “The last time we were together you were a prickly hedgehog any time Thorn came near.”
“Or flinching away from his touch like it was poison.” Rory lifts her hands, palms out. “No judgement, babe. God knows my ex did a number on me too. I’m just saying that a lot has changed.”
She’s not wrong.
“I…” I exhale and stare down at the cookies—the sugar cookies with extra rainbow sprinkles. “I trust him. Like…deep down I know he won’t hurt me.”
Chrissy takes my hand. “I’m glad for you.”
“But…” I swallow. “You don’t think it’s too fast?”
Rory laughs long and loud.
I frown. “What?”
“You made that man work for months for just a smile,” she says. “That’s hardly fast.”
“But a week ago,” I whisper, “I was—”
Chrissy’s fingers tighten. “Sometimes life moves at a snail’s pace…”
“And sometimes one moment drags you along at warp speed,” Tiff finishes, her expression very far away. Because if anyone knows anything about a billionaire moving at warp speed, it’s Tiff.
Jean-Michel…well, he figured out what he wanted.
And has never let it go.
Has Thorn done the same?
Warmth creeps slowly into my chest and I nibble at the inside of my cheek.
Because—
God, I hope so.
“Okay, now that we know you’re okay and not being held captive by a surly, albeit sexy billionaire,” Marie says, “I think it’s time we get down to more important subjects.”
Rory grins. “Just saying, I don’t think River would mind being trapped with her surly, sexy billionaire.”
Considering how much I’ve liked the last few days with him? She’s not wrong.
But I don’t want to think about how hard I’m falling for Thorn or what that might mean or how it might go wrong or what he’s holding back. I just…want to bask in the glow of what feels right.
And these women are part of that.
Because this—laughter in the air, good food shared, Mia’s babbling, us all talking over each other, fighting about our favorite parts of the book we’re reading together—is so freaking precious.
I lived too long without it.
I’m not letting it go—not ever again.
Even if part of me wants Thorn to be walking back into the penthouse, his mouth tipping up at the edges, his eyes warm, his voice gentle when he asks what movie we’re watching tonight.
On the trails of that thought, my phone buzzes from beside my wine glass.
THORN: How’re you ladies doing on food?
I grin, shake my head. Know he just can’t help himself.
RIVER: As you know, we’re overloaded on baked goods.
Three dots appear almost immediately.
THORN: Got it.
THORN: So I’ll have the delivery set for an hour from now.
RIVER: Now, that’s rude.
THORN: Trying to feed you is rude?
RIVER: Insinuating we’re eating you out of house and home is.
THORN: You forget I’ve seen the aftermath of Girls’ Nights before, little hen.
RIVER: We’re very dignified.
Except—even as I send that—cackling rings out as a very undignified discussion about our book takes place.
“Cover your ears,” Tiff teases, reaching out to block the side of Mia’s head
“Never,” Rory says. “Her lessons will start early.”
Buzz. Buzz.
THORN: Have fun, little hen.
I smile and put my phone away, looking up to see the girls are watching me.
“I really like her smile,” Marie stage whispers.
“I know,” Chrissy agrees.
“Damn right we do,” Rory chimes in.
Briar and Tiff just grin at me.
I roll my eyes. “So back to the book…”
They give me that, and we spend a long time talking about the story and then other things like Chrissy and Rory’s animal rescues and how they’re helping Briar organize one for former racehorses. Work is covered along with motherhood and hockey players and all their silly idiosyncrasies.
Ninety minutes later, one of Pascal’s men cautiously approaches, dropping several bags of takeout before disappearing just as quickly.
I roll my eyes.
But Thorn timed it just right.
The baked goods are decimated.
Our bellies are ready for something aside from empty carbs.
And the Italian food he ordered is delicious.
The conversation turns lazy, and we watch an episode of a trashy reality TV before Mia declares it’s bedtime.
Violet’s long since curled into my lap and is so out she doesn’t so much as bat an eye when I shift her to the cushion to walk everyone out.
Rory looks ready to fall asleep and loops her arm through Tiff’s as they move to the elevator.
Marie inspects a light fixture then hugs me and follows them.
Chrissy snaps Mia into her seat, kisses me on the cheek.
And Briar lingers, hugging me tightly and murmuring, “So happy you were brave enough to take a chance on Thorn.” She pulls back, winks. “And on yourself.”
My throat goes tight. “Thanks, honey.”
“Don’t be a stranger.” A sly grin. “But enjoy your surly, sexy billionaire in the meantime.”
I laugh softly and wave as the elevator doors shut, as the car takes them downstairs.
Suddenly the penthouse is quiet again.
Too quiet.
I stand in the living room for a moment, the city glowing beyond the windows, and wish Thorn was here.
When he doesn’t miraculously appear, I take care of the remaining dishes—thankful that the women insisted on helping me do the bulk of them (even though I tried to demur) because fatigue is creeping in and my ribs ache.
But even as I settle on the couch beside Violet, my eyes growing heavy there’s still no Thorn.
A coil of worry tightens beneath my ribs.
The doubts I’d shoved down earlier start creeping back in.
“Fuck it,” I whisper, grabbing my phone before I can overthink it.
RIVER: You okay?
The response comes quickly enough to settle my doubts.
THORN: Yes, little hen.
I smile faintly.
RIVER: It’s late and the girls are gone.
There’s a long pause.
Then—
THORN: I know. I’m sorry, little hen. I got caught up. I’ll be a while longer.
RIVER: Oh, okay.
THORN: Don’t wait up.
I nibble at my bottom lip, can’t resist teasing him.
RIVER: What if I WANT to wait for you?
This time the silence stretches longer.
Then finally—
THORN: Don’t, little hen. Don’t wait for me.
My lungs expand in a rush as disappointment ripples through me. Then I table that. This has been a lot for him too—a lot of feelings and changes and vulnerabilitie.
And I still don’t know everything.
My heart aches softly at the realization but I just type out,
RIVER: Try not to work too hard.
Three dots appear.
Disappear.
And…stay gone.
More disappointment I struggle to tamp down as I curl into the corner of the couch with one of my blankets wrapped around me and read my book, frowning when I find the bookmark in a different place. I turn to where I left off and quickly get sucked into the story.
But soon enough my eyes start burning.
I must fall asleep after that.
Because the next thing I know, strong arms are lifting me carefully from the couch.
I stir against a familiar chest. “What—?”
“Sleep, little hen,” Thorn murmurs.
“Missed you,” I mumble sleepily.
Quiet then, “Me too.”
The knot in my belly loosens as he carries me into the bedroom and lowers me carefully onto the mattress.
I catch his wrist immediately. “Stay.”
Thorn brushes back my hair, climbs in beside me. “I will,” he murmurs.
Sleep starts to suck me under.
But just before I’m fully gone, I hear him say softly,
“I’ll stay for as long as I can, little hen.”