Page 44 of Dissonance

“Okay.”

She hesitates like she’s expecting me to say more. I don’t. I hold still, let her see that I’m giving her what she’s asked for without pretending it’s easy. She opens the door, the noise of the city outside rushing in—horns, voices, heat rising from the pavement—and it’s all distant, like it’s happening streets away.

She climbs out carefully, favoring her good wrist, pausing before closing the door, head turning just slightly, not enough to actually face me. “Tell Cooper I’m sorry I couldn’t make it back to the studio.”

“I will.”

“And let Tyler know I’ll call him.”

“Sure.”

She nods once and closes the door, walking away. I watch her go until she disappears through the lobby doors, hands curled tight around the steering wheel.

I’ve got you. Both of you.

I meant it. Every word.

Eventually, I pull back into traffic and head to the studio. The noise is deafening the second I step inside, crew shouting over each other, bass thumping low through the speakers, the director running through the last of what they need with Tyler. Cooper spots me from where he’s watching on the side immediately, breaking away and crossing toward me.

“Where is she?”

“Office.”

He stops in front of me, eyes moving across my face, trying to read the space between what I’m saying and what I’m not. “Is she okay? What did the doctor say?”

I open my mouth and close it. Is she okay? I don’t know how to answer that. Because I let her sit in my car, not saying a word for twenty minutes, and then watched her walk into a building alone rather than going with her. The honest answer is that I’m standing in the middle of a music video set with the ground still shifting and no clear picture of what happens next.

“Most likely a sprain.”

Cooper winces. “But she’s okay?”

My jaw tightens, and I nod.

He studies me, the creases between his brow deepening. He knows me well enough to tell when I’m not giving him the full picture, and well enough to know not to push right now. Reaching out, one hand lands on my arm.

“Reign,” the director calls. “One more and we’re done.”

Cooper holds my gaze a moment longer, then jogs back to the set.

A baby.

My baby.

Fragile, unseen, already so real.

And she’s carrying it.

I’ve never thought about kids. Not once, not seriously, not with the life I lead, not after everything with my brother, not after years of telling myself the job was enough, the job was everything.

Kids…they weren’t on the cards. Never on the cards.

And now it’s the only card on the table.

Chapter Twenty

Thea

I don’t remember turning my office lights off last night. Or on, for that matter. It was dark when I left, that much I know, the city lights outside the window doing enough to guide me from my desk to the door. My laptop was dead when I came back this morning, the charging cable still lying under my desk where I left it.