I just hold her stare.
For long enough that she sighs, a beleaguered expression taking over her face. “It doesn’t matter how big of a hissy fit I throw, does it? West is still going to get a background check, isn’t he?”
More staring.
More sighing.
Then she shakes her head. “Well,” she says, the slightest bit of humor sliding into her words, “if it’s not you then it would be Dash.”
“I don’t know,” I say. “He’s pretty distracted with Willow.”
She smiles again and this time it’s filled with sisterly affection. “I’m glad he’s found her. They’re perfect for each other.”
“Yeah,” I agree, but I say it while I’m trying to stifle my jealousy.
“And I think Lily is perfect for you.”
I suck in a breath. “Thorny,” I begin.
She walks over to me, lifts on tiptoe, and presses her lips to my jaw. “You deserve to be happy.” She drops back down, eyes growing serious. “Even though I know every part of you is telling you that being alone is safer.”
“Bri—”
“Be brave,” she murmurs. “For both of you.” Her gaze holds mine for long enough for those words to sink in then she turns and heads for the door. “Because I think the shadows in Lily’s eyes mean she’s going to have to be dragged, kicking and screaming, toward any semblance of a happily ever after.”
“I—”
Another pointed glance over her shoulder. “Fight for her, Atlas.” A beat. “And yourself.”
I suck in a breath, but then she’s gone, the door swinging closed behind her, leaving me alone with nothing to keep me company…
Nothing, at least, until my phone buzzes with a text that sends my heart thudding hard against my ribs.
LILY: I’m in LA, come to my hotel.
She’s in town and she wants me to come to her hotel? My first instinct, is fuck yes, I’m finallygetting somewhere.
My next is…fuck that.
Because the sex part is easy…and also, the sex means that she gets to leave that hand up, its palm out, purposefully keeping me at a distance.
So, instead, I send a different message.
ATLAS: No, Texas. I’m just leaving the office. You come to my place.
LILY: My bed is comfy and we can order room service.
ATLAS: I have this thing called a kitchen…and I even cook in it. And my mattress is so good that you’ll never want to sleep on anything else.
Or hopefully,with anyoneelse.
There’s a long pause.
Long enough that my fingers start tapping on my cell’s screen again, that I send another message to prod her along, to goad her into accepting instead of finding another way to push me away.
ATLAS: Come on now, Texas. Are you too chicken to critique a billionaire’s interior decorating skills?
LILY: You said you didn’t pick anything out at your house.