Page 77 of All Your Dreams

Now the apartment is quiet, my takeaway order sitting unordered on my phone, and I have absolutely no idea what to do with myself. Especially when being left alone with my thoughts also means being left alone with the memories of yesterday.

I’ve replayed our first kiss and every one that followed more times than it’s probably healthy. The way Peyton looked at me after the annulment became official, like she'd finally given herself permission to choose what she wanted. How she melted against me the second our lips met. The soft, breathless sounds that escaped her when weeks of holding back finally gave way. Every flashback puts a stupid grin on my face.

I stand in the kitchen for a while without doing anything. Then I open the fridge, take a look and close the door. I check the time even though I just checked it thirty seconds ago, wandering from the kitchen to the living room and back like I misplaced something important. My gaze catches on Tilly’s blanket draped over the arm of the couch and the half-finished puzzle Peyton started on the coffee table.

The apartment feels empty without my girls here. They don’t just fill the silence; they’ve embedded themselves into my everyday life. Peyton and Tilly make this place home. For the first time in my life, I realize you can feel homesick without even leaving home.

I drag a hand over my neck and reach for my phone. When in doubt, text the group chat.

Ollie: Studio time tonight?

Eli: I have a meeting for another forty-five minutes, but then I’m free.

Ollie: J, you up for it?

Jax: Sure

Jax: Bring *baby emoji*

Ollie: Tilly is with Heather tonight

Jax: …

Eli: You should still come over.

Ollie: You two just want free takeout

Eli: Correct.

Jax: *thumbs up emoji*

Jax: Bring dumplings

Eli: And spring rolls.

Ollie: I hate both of you. We’ll order in later so don’t expect food when I arrive.

Jax: Boringggg

Eli: See you soon.

Jax: Love u bro

I shove my phone back into my jeans pocket and glance around the apartment one more time. Earlier today I'd have given anything for a quiet evening. Now the silence feels too loud.

Grabbing my keys from the ceramic bowl by the door, I lock up behind me and head downstairs. The city is settling into the evening as I drive toward Eli’s place in Manhattan. Normally I'd crank up music loud enough to drown out the world, but tonight I leave the radio off, letting the hum of the engine fill the space instead.

Maybe Heather was right; maybe getting out of the apartment for a few hours is exactly what I need. The guys always have a way of pulling me out of my own head, even when I don't realize I'm stuck there.

The elevator opens directly into Eli and Rose’s penthouse, because of course it does. Everything about my friend’s life exists on a different scale than the rest of us. Not that I've ever been jealous. If anyone deserves a place like this, it's Eli. He worked his ass off for every square foot of it.

The home studio on the second floor has floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city and guitars hanging on the wall next to artwork. There’s enough gear to stock a small music store. Right in the middle of it all, are my two favorite idiots. Eli sits hunched over his newest guitar and Jax has claimed most of the massive couch, his boots kicked off and arms folded behind his head. This might be the first time he’s ever arrived before me.

I stop in the doorway and check my watch. Jax cracks one eye open. “What?” he asks.

“Nothing. Just making sure I’m not late.”

He grins, the expression close to the same one that used to mean we were about to do something we'd regret in the morning. “Well, well. I thought I would never see the day Mr. Always on Time is late.”