Chapter Nineteen
TALLY
Charlie had gone back downstairs, mumbling about cleaning up the cardboard carnage in the studio. The door clicked behind him, and the apartment fell into that awkward hush that comes after chaos. Paint still clung to my skin, mixed with his scent—warm, steady, a little too easy to miss already.
Doyle hovered near the couch like a worried parent, Jordan paced the living room, and Dig sat cross-legged next to me, his eyes boring a hole into the side of my head.
“Stop staring at me,” I whisper-hissed.
He pinched my arm.
“Ouch!”
He snickered. “Well don’t scare me like that, ever again!”
“I didn’t do it on purpose.”
“You literally collapsed,” he said, louder now, not bothering to whisper. “In a hot guy’s arms. While I was upstairs eating charcuterie. Do you know how tragic that is? I should’ve been there to document it. You know how I love a dramatic rescue.”
“You’re insane.”
“And you have yourself a little boyfriend,” he shot back.
Before I could answer, Doyle’s voice cut through the room.
“What if you went by yourself and I stayed here?” he murmured to Jordan, though not quietly enough.
Jordan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “She’s going to be fine. The doctor said it was orthostatic hypotension—low blood pressure. It happens in the second trimester. She needs fluids and rest. Maybe we—”
"—Find a babysitter,” Doyle cut in, throwing a look over his shoulder like I wasn’t three feet away on his pristine white couch. “Because that’s what we’re talking about, right?”
I groaned, grabbing the nearest throw pillow and hurling it in their general direction. It landed with a pathetic flop.
“I can hear you, you know. And I don’t need a babysitter.”
Dig perked up. “Speaking of babysitters,” he said, eyes gleaming, “can we circle back to the real issue here? The very large, very broody man who apparently swept you off your feet, carried you to safety, and saved your life?”
He set down his glass with the flourish of a Broadway actor in the third act. “You know I require more details.”
I sighed, pressing the heel of my hand into my forehead. “It wasn’t that dramatic.”
“That’s not what I heard,” Dig said. “I heard he was rugged, mysterious, shirtless, and he lifted you like you weighed nothing, which—frankly—I find offensive.”
My eyes narrowed on him. “Where are you always getting this information from? You just got here. Who told you he was shirtless?”
Dig shrugged. “Hoyt, we’re practically besties now.”
Heat flushed up my neck and spread across my cheeks. Of course, Dig was friends with everyone in the entire city limits already.
“He flat out said that a sweaty, shirtless Charlie, eyes a’blaze with concern over your poor, crumpled, pregnant ass, all but took the stairs three at a time to get you up here as fast as he could.
He just keeps piling on those romantic gestures.
” Dig fanned himself with a hand, offering me a smug smirk.
“That was the most action you’ve had in a while in that dark, cool stairwell.
Practically got to second base in your world. ”
Doyle made a sound somewhere between a cough and a snort.
Jordan rubbed his temples, pacing in front of the couch.
He stopped, lowering himself onto the coffee table in front of me.
“My mother’s not doing well, Tally,” he started quietly, looking toward Doyle for reassurance.
“My father has asked me to fly home to California to spend some time with her before the holidays. The doctors don’t think she has a few months ahead of her. ”
Tears pooled in the corners of my eyes. I was making everything about me, and here was Jordan—more than a brother-in-law—struggling with this.
“I’m so sorry, Jordy.”
He shook his head. “I don’t want… sorry, we don’t want anything to happen to you while we’re gone.”
I stood up a little too fast and had to catch myself on the side of the couch. “I’ll be fine, I promise. Please don’t worry about me. Go spend time with your mother.”
Jordan exhaled and turned to me. “Tally, I’m sure your brother feels the same, but we truly wouldn’t forgive ourselves if something happened to you while we were gone.”
“I can function,” I said, stung. “I can walk. I can breathe. I can manage my own body.”
“You are having some real medical issues right now, Tallulah. Fainting and having my friend carry you up the stairs isn’t going to become a daily event,” Doyle said flatly.
“And the man who caught you is... not known for his bedside manner, but he’s reluctantly agreed to check in on you while we’re gone. ”
“Add it to the list of things I didn’t sign up for,” Charlie said from behind us, calm, a trace of amusement in his voice.
Dig took one look at Charlie as he stepped back into the penthouse and immediately slumped against the couch cushion, mimosa still in hand.
“Aww, you found your shirt,” he said, tone mournful. “Such a shame. You were giving sweaty fireman in an emotionally unavailable Jane Austen reboot. I was rooting for you.”
I rolled my eyes, but Charlie didn’t rise to the bait.
He moved quietly into the room, brushing a hand across my shoulders, almost like he was checking to make sure I hadn’t vanished.
He didn’t look at me. Didn’t look at anyone, really.
And honestly? I preferred that to the overly careful glances I’d been collecting all afternoon, like pity was a party favor.
I was fine. A little dizzy. A little overcooked. Maybe riding the tail end of a hormone surge. But fine.
Still, Jordan had launched into a full-blown logistics breakdown. He was leaning against the kitchen island with his laptop open, itinerary half-typed and color-coded.
“Sylvie will be keeping an eye on the shop, so feel free to keep your shifts. You’ve got follow-ups scheduled on Tuesday and the following Friday,” he said without looking up. “And we already called in groceries, so you shouldn’t need to go anywhere.”
Charlie pulled his phone from his back pocket, typing quickly while listening closely. His eyes caught mine, and he gave me a sly, half-smile and the quickest blink-and-you’ll-miss-it wink. He was equal parts serious and, possibly, enjoying every minute of this.
Because the one thing I’d learned about Charlie Pruitt was that he was always steady. Always there. That quiet, brooding reliability people trusted without needing a reason. And now, apparently, I was going to be living in his orbit for the next few weeks.
Jordan clapped his hands together. “So it’s settled. Franny Jo will help with transport if needed. But otherwise, you’re staying close to home, resting, and letting Charlie be your bodyguard.”
“Bodyguard?” I echoed.
“Roommate. Guard dog. Overqualified babysitter,” Jordan said with a smirk.
“You do realize I’m thirty-one, right?”
Dig leaned forward and whispered, “In her condition.”
I grabbed another throw pillow and launched it at his head. He caught it one-handed like a baseball pro.
“I’m not fragile,” I muttered, trying not to look at Charlie, who was now sipping his beer like he had no plans to get involved.
Jordan, ever the diplomat, offered a tight smile. “We know. But I’d feel a lot better handling one family crisis if I wasn’t worried about another happening back here.”
I knew what he meant. I saw it in Doyle’s face, even if he wasn’t saying it out loud. That latest fainting spell had rattled them both.
But the truth was, the idea of being alone had already started to gnaw at me—now it was practically roaring. So maybe this wasn’t the worst idea after all.
I cleared my throat. “So…it’s just a few weeks?”
Charlie’s gaze lingered on mine, steady and unreadable. “Long enough to drive each other crazy,” he said. “Short enough that you might still miss me when I’m gone.”