chapter 7

I scrolled up. Usually, Sloane texted throughout the day. Little things, photos of what she was working on in the lab, funny observations about her research, or just sweet messages telling me she missed me.

But there was nothing.

A strange uneasiness settled in my stomach. *When was the last time Sloane went this long without texting me?*

I couldn't remember. Even during her busiest periods at the lab, she always found time to check in. It was one of the things I'd always loved about her, how she made sure I knew she was thinking about me.

*Something's not right.*

The thought hit me with unexpected force, and suddenly I needed to see her. To make sure everything was okay between us.

"I should go," I said, starting to sit up.

The sound of shattering glass made me jump. I turned to see Calista standing by the window, pieces of what used to be a water glass scattered around her bare feet.

"Oh no," she gasped, looking down at the mess. "I'm so clumsy."

Blood was already welling up from a cut on her foot.

I rushed over to her, carefully stepping around the glass shards.

"Don't move," I said, scooping her up in my arms. "You'll cut yourself worse."

She wrapped her arms around my neck, and I could feel her trembling. Whether from pain or something else, I wasn't sure.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, and I could hear tears in her voice. "I was just trying to get some water, and I slipped..."

"It's okay," I said, carrying her to the bed. "Let me look at your foot."

As I examined the cut, cleaning it gently with a damp towel, that anxious feeling about Sloane continued to gnaw at me. Something was definitely wrong. I could feel it in my gut.

*Just like I'm about to lose something important.*

The thought was so clear, so certain, that it made my hands shake slightly as I tended to Calista's wound.

"Matteo?" Calista's voice was soft, concerned. "Are you okay? You seem tense."

"I'm fine," I said.

She reached up and touched my face gently. "Talk to me. What's wrong?"

I looked at her lying there, vulnerable and trusting, her hand on her stomach where my child was growing.

"I just... I have this feeling something's not right with Sloane," I admitted.

Calista's face immediately hardened. "What kind of feeling?"

"She hasn't texted me in days. That's not like her."

"Maybe she's just busy," Calista said, but there was something sharp in her voice now. "Or maybe she's finally giving you some space."

"No, you don't understand. Sloane doesn't give me space. She loves me too much. She texts me constantly, calls me multiple times a day."

Calista was quiet for a long moment. When she spoke again, her voice was carefully controlled.

"So what are you saying? You want to go running to her?"

"I just want to check on her. Make sure everything's—"

"You can't leave me alone and bleeding for her," Calista interrupted, her voice rising. "I'm pregnant with your child, Matteo. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

*She's right. Calista needs me right now.* I took a deep breath, trying to push down the anxious feeling.

"Of course it means something," I said, finishing the bandage on her foot. "You and the baby are important to me."

She guided my hand back to her stomach, holding it there. "In just a few months, you'll get to meet our little one. Isn't that exciting?"

I tried to focus on what she was saying, tried to let the warmth of that future moment wash away my anxiety. But the unease wouldn't leave.

"I still think I should go see Sloane," I said quietly.

Calista's face crumpled, and suddenly she was shoving my hand away from her body.

"You can't let her go, can you?" she said, her voice breaking. "She's in your head here, she's in your heart there, but what about me? What about what I mean to you?"

"Cal, that's not—"

"No," she said, tears streaming down her face. "Don't tell me it's not like that. You're here with me, but you're not really here at all, are you?"

I looked at her, really looked at her, and felt that familiar protectiveness surge up in my chest. *She's right. She deserves better than this.*

"I'm sorry," I said, pulling her back into my arms. "You're right. I'm here with you now, and that's what matters."

*Why am I panicking anyway?* The thought came to me with sudden clarity. *Sloane loves me. She's probably just busy with whatever she and her mother are planning for the anniversary. She'd never... she'd never leave me.*

The very idea was ridiculous. Sloane had been devoted to me since we were teenagers. She'd turned down opportunities, changed her plans, shaped her entire life around me. That kind of love didn't just disappear overnight.

*Sloane adores me. She always has, and she always will. And I'll see her tomorrow at the anniversary dinner.*