Page 86 of My Only

I jerked my head back, stunned.

“Have a good day,” she spat, turning on her bare feet and storming out of the kitchen.

Not even bothering to sip her coffee.

Not even looking back.

Leaving me standing there with my dick out, slacks bunched around my ankles, and confusion hitting me like a punch to the gut.

It only took a few minutes of replaying everything in my head—every touch, every kiss, every whispered moan—for it to finally hit me.

Because sex always worked. Always.

But not after my phone chimed with a message from Harper.

That was when she shut down. That was when she closed herself off.

And the second I realized it, my stomach sank.

I yanked up my pants in haste, my mind racing.

I knew Ayla had been irritated by Harper since meeting her at The Met, but I thought it was just that. Annoyance. I figured she didn’t like her, but I never once considered that Ayla actually saw Harper as a problem that could break us.

But now?

Now, I wasn’t so sure.

I took a step toward the hallway, ready to go after her, ready to fix whatever this was—only to hear the sharp slam of the guest bedroom door.

I froze.

“Damn.”

She’s mad mad.

Fuck.

I ran my fingers over the top of my head, frustration burning through me in waves.

Was it really Harper? Did she really consider Harper a threat?

Nah. There’s no way Ayla would think I would…

I exhaled sharply, rolling my shoulders back as the weight of the last few months crashed into me.

Had I been blind?

Had I really convinced myself Ayla was just being dramatic about me coming home late all the time, when all this time… Ayla considered Harper to be a real problem?

And if so…

“How the hell am I supposed to fix that now?”

I had no clue. But I knew exactly who would. A man who I felt knew how to fix everything… and I prayed like hell that I was right.

PART III

THE FAULT LINE

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