Page 114 of Code Word
“Oh nothing,” I said with a cough. Then, blessedly, my phone beeped again, providing a great cover-up. “Just my realtor.”
“Did Roman send the market analysis?” Luke asked.
“Mm,” I replied, opening the message. I scanned through all the crap that didn’t interest me—local listings, recent sales, comparative data, blah-blah-blah—and got the bottom figure.
“Your realtor?” Jer asked.
“Yep.”
I showed Luke the screen. “Holy shit,” he said. “That’s a great price.”
I turned my phone off. “I’ll reply later.”
Jeremy’s eyes met mine in the rearview. “You’re selling?”
“My house in Malibu,” I replied.
“Really?”
“Yep.”
“Gonna sell mine too,” Luke said, squeezing my hand this time.
Jeremy turned to look at us again, and Steve reached for the wheel again. “Jeremy, babe.”
“What are you doing?” Jeremy asked. “Where are you going? You’re leaving?”
Him assuming we were a singular unit made me happier than it probably should have. And his assumption that we were done and leaving too. “We don’t know,” I answered, giving Luke a smile. “A house here, probably. And maybeanother place in Mexico. Or Hawaii. Or Tahiti.” I shrugged, smiling at the possibilities. “We haven’t decided.”
Jeremy was stunned and kinda quiet for the rest of the drive.
We arrived at the gates to home, to Luke’s house, and while we waited for the gates to open and the slow drive up to the house, it felt... like we were arriving at a place we no longer belonged.
It was hard to describe.
It was home, yes. But not for long.
Jeremy and Steve came inside with us. The house was cold and dark—the irony of that wasn’t lost on me—and I dumped Luke’s bag onto the couch while he opened the blinds and doors.
“It was so much warmer in Mexico,” I said to no one in particular.
Jeremy stood there, his hands shoved into his pockets. “So, hey,” he began, frowning. “You guys... Are we good?”
“Are we good? Luke and me?” I gestured between me and Luke. “We are.”
Jeremy looked right at me. “I meant us. Things weren’t good when you left, and I...” He shrugged.
“I know you tried to help,” I said. “Sorry if I made you worry. Sorry if I was an ass. Well, more of an ass than usual.”
“You were unconscious on the floor when I found you in Malibu,” he said quietly.
“Asleep,” I corrected. “Passed out on the floor, maybe. But not unconscious.”
“You were a mess.”
“Oh, I know,” I agreed. “I needed to figure shit out on my own and get to the conclusion that everyone but me knew, apparently.”
Luke came over and stood by me, his hand on my lower back. “Things weren’t good for either of us,” he said, taking the emphasis off me. “We’ve done some thinking, soul-searching, reevaluating. Figuring out what we want, what we want to do. Where we want to be.”
