Chapter 6

"Yeah?" Zoe she answered instantly.

"Don't you have a client to see today?" I said.

She paused. "I can go a little later."

"Are you sure I'm not ruining your schedule?"

Zoe looked at me, forcing a tight smile. "Meeting the parents is a huge deal. Of course I want to be here for it."

I looked back at her. "To watch out for me, or to watch him?"

The car went dead silent.

Julian's grip tightened on the steering wheel.

Zoe's smile froze completely. "Mia, what is wrong with you today?"

I turned my gaze out the window. "I just didn't sleep well last night."

She jumped on that instantly. "If you're exhausted, stop overthinking things."

It was a line she used to say all the time.

Whenever I got upset over some minor thing Julian did, she would chew him out and then lecture me.

"Stop driving yourself crazy," she'd say. "Either confront him or walk away, but don't sit there writing a tragedy in your head until three in the morning."

But I could never bring myself to ask.

So Zoe would ask for me, and Julian would always deliver a beautifully reassuring explanation.

Slowly, they conditioned me into a habit.

When I was hurt, I went to Zoe first.

When I panicked, I waited for Julian to calm me down.

One was my shield, the other my safety net.

And now, both of them were sitting in the same car, telling me to stop overthinking.

*****

Julian parked outside my parents' building.

They lived in a third-floor walk-up.

Julian took the lead, carrying the expensive coffee.

His steps were slower than usual, as if he were genuinely nervous.

When we hit the second-floor landing, he looked back and smiled. "Mia, do I look okay?"

I stood on the stairs, taking him in.

White button-down. Black overcoat. Gifts in hand.

He wore that gentle, dependable smile my parents used to adore.

My mom once said Julian looked like a man who knew how to cherish a woman.

My dad had warned me to watch out for smooth talkers, but admitted Julian's eyes seemed steady.

They had prepped a massive spread for today.

My mom had even texted me the menu last night. [He doesn't like butter, right? I'll leave them out of the salmon.]

Julian remembered I was afraid of the dark, and he remembered my stomach flared up when I was stressed.

And I remembered he hated butter, loved lobster mac and cheese, and only ever wore white shirts.

We were all so good at remembering.

Behind me, Zoe reached out to adjust my scarf.

"Don't be nervous," she whispered. "I've got your back."

I turned to look at her.

Her fingers still lingered on the edge of the fabric.

Her eyes held a flicker of panic mixed with that familiar, protective affection. Just like yesterday in my foyer when she asked if I'd burned myself.

She truly cared about me.

And she was truly lying to me.

I pulled the scarf away from her fingers. "Zoe."

Her hands fell empty. "Yeah?"

My voice was barely a whisper. "I understood your little warning last night."

All the color drained from her face.

Julian stopped outside the third-floor door and turned around to look at us.

The door swung open from the inside.

My mom poked her head out, beaming.

"You're here!" Her smile widened when she saw the three of us. "Zoe, you came too? Perfect, I was just saying it's been way too long."

Zoe's lips were pale, but she managed a strained smile. "Hi, Mrs. Brooks."

Julian straightened his posture and greeted them politely. "Mr. Brooks, Mrs. Brooks."

My dad walked out from the living room, his gaze flicking to the gifts in Julian's hands before settling on me.

"Come on in," he said.

Julian shot me a look, seemingly breathing a sigh of relief.

He handed over the gifts. "Mr. Brooks, this roast coffee is for you.

"And Mrs. Brooks, these pastries are for you. Mia mentioned you don't like things too sweet."

My mom took them, delighted. "How thoughtful."

Zoe offered her box next. "I helped pick them out, Mrs. Brooks. Julian's taste is terrible. I couldn't trust him to do it alone."

My mom packaged a laugh, affectionately tapping Zoe's forehead. "You're always so protective of our Mia."

Zoe's eyes suddenly welled with tears.

She looked down, her voice incredibly soft. "Always."

I stood frozen in the doorway, keeping my boots on.

Julian grabbed the indoor slippers I used to keep here, crouching down to place them at my feet.

"Come on in, Mia, "he said.

I stared at the slippers, and all I could picture were the pink bunny slippers Zoe had been wearing at his place last night.

My mom noticed something was off.

"Mia?" she called out.

The apartment smelled incredible.

Roasted salmon, savory soup, and baked ribs. Nothing Julian couldn't eat.

My parents had remembered so many details just for this one dinner.

I untied my scarf, folded it neatly, and set it on the console table by the door.

"Mom, Dad," I said, my voice agonizingly slow. "We don't need to do this today."

Julian's smile vanished. "Mia?"

Zoe went completely ashen.

She took a step toward me. "Mia, wait, please don't..."

I looked at the pastry box in my mom's hands, then at the coffee Julian had brought.

"He was at my place last night," I said, my voice steady.

The room went dead quiet.

My dad frowned.

Julian's lips parted. "Mia, let's go back and talk about this."

I shook my head. "Zoe was there, too."

The smile faded from my mom's face completely.

I looked at her, a bitter lump forming in my throat. "Mom, he was in my bed last night. Sleeping with Zoe."