Page 74 of Babies for the Big Shot
Then someone saw us. Someone knows. And I don’t know which possibility makes my stomach lurch more. Nick playing games, or someone else playing spy.
The second one comes not long after.
Unknown Number: You think Nick is different with you?
I go completely still.
That one hits differently—a cold finger dragging slowly down my spine.
This can’t be Nick, which means…
My stomach drops, fast and hard, because this?
I feel like I’m being watched.
I sit up straight, dislodging Meatball, who groans in protest and flops dramatically across my thigh, a fuzzy weighted blanket of judgment.
But I barely register it. My heart’s hammering. My palms are sweaty. My brain is busy drawing connections in Sharpie.
Rebecca.
She’s the first person who pops into my mind.
The look she gave me at the gala, the tight smile, the venom behind her words. That vibe wasn’t just ex-girlfriend jealousy. That waswarpaint.
And now? This? These messages? Itcouldbe her brand of psychological warfare. Elegant. Ice cold. Sprinkled with just enough truth to get under your skin and fester.
I wouldn’t put it past her to have spies in every corner of Manhattan. Or at least an intern or two on her personal payroll. Hell, she probably Venmos bartenders for intel.
I don’t know how the wealthy live…
My finger hovers over the screen.
Block.
I do it before I can spiral further.
No response. No drama. No letting her know she got to me.
Just a digital door slammed shut. I tell myself that’s the end of it.
That it’ll stop now.
That Rebecca just needed to mark her territory and move on.
I can’t focus on her. Not now. Not when things with Nick are already spiraling toward emotional chaos. I’m unraveling completely, and he’s become a cold, impenetrable wall.
What I really need to do, besides deep breathing into a couch pillow and stress-eating pickles at 11 a.m., is figure out what’s going on with Nick.
Because if he’s pulling away because he suspects something…
If he knows and he’s just too terrified to say it…
Or worse, if hedoesn’tknow and still wants distance between us anyway…
Then I’m not just scared. I’m screwed.
Meatball lets out a soft, grumbly sigh and licks my elbow, trying to comfort me and insult me at the same time.
