Page 45 of Traded

He actually laughs at that. “We’d make it work.”

We. Alwayswe, and that settles me more than anything else could. I kiss him back, lingering longer than I should. “I’m going to see Mina now, you know. I want to know everything about the plan so I can help.”

“Of course you are.” He’s still smiling when I back away, grabbing my bag and coffee. “Got to keep that schedule up to date.”

“Don’t laugh.” I point at him accusingly. “My schedule is the only certainty in my life right now.”

“Not the only one.”

Chapter fourteen

Heavy Vibes, Sucky Lives

The atmosphere in this elevator is so heavy I’m shocked we’re actually moving.

I watch the numbers light up in silence. Lauren and I have taken up opposite corners, each keeping as far as we can get from the other.

It’s easier, I suppose, with the giant silver suitcase between us. I eye it with irritation before focusing forward. The silence stretches out, as awkward as it was in Jonas’s borrowed truck.

My phone vibrates in my hand. Liam.

Bringing takeout home. Carter will be late. We’ll talk later.

Lauren’s phone buzzes a moment later while I’m still formulating a response. I look over at where her head is bowed, a small smile on her face as she taps out a reply.

Ugh.I shove my phone into my bag without answering and tap my foot in irritation.

It’s a relief when the doors finally slide open, the ting of the bell announcing our arrival to an otherwise empty apartment. Carefully planned, waiting for me to give the official tour.

I stare at the hall that leads to my living room. Lauren hovers awkwardly at my shoulder. “Uh—”

The doors slide closed, trapping us both inside the elevator once more.

Lauren shifts. “Rosie?”

Her face looks wan. She tries to smile. “I… ah, I don’t really love elevators. Heights, you know?”

We live in a fuckingpenthouse.

My hand slams out, opening the doors without saying anything. She follows me into the hall, dragging her suitcase with her and nothing else. “Where’s the rest of your stuff?”

“This is it.” She comes to a stop at my face. “What?”

Now I’m suspicious. And weirdly annoyed. “That’s it?”

She’s likely hoping for a shopping spree. My pack’s net worth is a number I try not to think about too much. That much money and someone who hoards fluffy materials is not a safe combination. “I’m sure they’ll get you anything you need.”

My tone bites. I know Jonas would be more than happy to take her shopping. To buy her whatever she wants.

I turn away from her and spread out my hand. “This is the hall.”

“It’s nice.” I can feel her studying the brightly-colored runner stretched over solid oak floorboards beneath our feet, the mismatched scarlet and deep green dressers facing each other with oddly shaped metal mirrors above them.

And our photos, dozens of them crammed into brightly-colored frames and filling the walls with three years of memories. “I love the colors. I’m not much of a designer.”

I try to work out if there’s an insult in there somewhere. Quirky, yes, butdesigneris not a term anyone would ever associate with me.

There’s a lot of blank space. Now I wish I’d gone ahead and filled every gap instead of thinking it was romantic to keep space for our future.