Chapter 82

The sky outside the penthouse had darkened to a muted steel gray, casting a soft gloom over the apartment as the once golden light faded completely. Emma was curled up on the couch, blanket tucked under her arms, while Abigail stood by the window, arms crossed, a pensive look drawn across her face.

There was something in the air—subtle, but impossible to ignore.

Emma glanced up from her tea. “You’ve been quiet.”

Abigail didn’t turn. “Just thinking.”

Emma waited a beat, then softly asked, “About what?”

Abigail finally turned to face her, her voice tight. “About how we’ve had company in our space every day this week. About how I can’t remember the last time it was just you and me without some kind of audience.”

Emma blinked, surprised. “You love Megan and Ashley.”

“I do,” Abigail said quickly. “That’s not the point.”

Emma sat up a little straighter. “Then what is?”

Abigail rubbed the back of her neck, frustration flickering in her eyes. “I just feel like we haven’t had any time to be… us. Just us. I know everything’s changing with the baby, and I want to soak it in with you—but lately, it feels like I’m always sharing you.”

Emma set her mug down, her voice calm but clipped. “You could’ve said something before now.”

“I’m saying it now,” Abigail replied, sharper than intended.

There was a beat of silence.

Emma’s jaw tightened. “You know, I’m pregnant, Abigail. I’m exhausted, hormonal, and trying to keep everything together. I didn’t realize I needed to keep track of your social energy too.”

“That’s not fair,” Abigail shot back, her voice rising. “You think I don’t see how much effort you put in? I do. But it’s like I’m standing here watching everyone get the soft, easy parts of you, and I get what’s leftover.”

Emma stood now, hands clenched at her sides. “You’re the one who gets me when I’m vulnerable. Who sees me when I’m falling apart. Don’t act like that’s nothing.”

“I’m not saying it’s nothing!” Abigail took a breath, pacing now. “I’m saying… I miss you.”

The words hung heavy in the air.

Emma looked away first, lips trembling just slightly. “I don’t know what to say to that.”

Neither of them moved for a long, aching minute. The sound of the city outside buzzed faintly through the balcony doors.

Then Abigail’s phone buzzed on the counter.

She glanced at the screen. Megan.

“I should get that,” she muttered, stepping away to answer.

“Hey,” Abigail said, her voice low.

“Hey,” Megan chirped on the other end. “So… random, but a few of us are hitting this club tonight. Chill spot, nothing wild. Thought I’d invite you. Come blow off some steam. Bring Emma too, if she’s up for it.”

Abigail hesitated. Her eyes flicked toward Emma, who was still standing stiffly by the couch, arms crossed.

She softened her voice. “Let me check.”

“Cool, I’ll hang on.”

Abigail approached slowly. “Megan invited me out. Her and some friends. Just… something light. Club, drinks, dancing.”

Emma looked at her for a moment, like she was weighing something invisible in her hands.

Then she nodded once. “Go. Might be good for you.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Abigail gave a small, hesitant smile. “I won’t be out too late.”

Emma just nodded again, eyes already distant.

Abigail turned back to the phone. “I’m in.”

As she walked off to grab her jacket, Emma sat back down on the couch, hands curled around the now-cold tea mug, staring out at the city that had suddenly never felt lonelier.

Emma stared at the closed door for a while after Abigail left. Her heart was still pounding, not from anger, but from the quiet aftershock of a disagreement that hit deeper than expected. It wasn’t the first argument they’d had, but it was the first time in a while that it left her feeling… distant.

She wandered into the kitchen, hands trailing along the marble counter, then stopped. No more pacing. No more replaying the conversation in her head. She needed a reset—and maybe some good company.

She grabbed her phone and tapped out a quick message.

Emma:
Hey… any chance you’re free tonight? I could really use some chill, some snacks, and some girl time. Just us. No drama. No drinking for me, obviously. Just vibes.

A little spinning dot appeared almost immediately.

Ashley:
Say less. I’m in. Should I bring mocktails, gossip, and that fuzzy blanket you keep stealing when I come over?

Emma:
All of the above. Come through. I’ll make us a snack board.

Ashley:
Give me 30 minutes. I’m putting on my girls’ night playlist.

Emma smiled for what felt like the first time in an hour and tossed her phone on the counter. She grabbed a wooden cutting board and started slicing fruit—strawberries, oranges, and cucumber slices. She added a pile of crackers, a small wedge of brie, a handful of almonds, and two little bowls of dip she found in the fridge.

She lit a candle on the dining table, then paused and moved it to the coffee table instead. The couch was covered in soft throws, and she tossed a few extra pillows around. Soft jazz played on her speaker, mixing with the distant hum of the city.

Emma swapped into one of Abigail’s oversized T-shirts and slipped on fuzzy socks. Her bump peeked out a little beneath the hem, and she rubbed it gently, whispering, “Okay, little one. Let’s take care of mama tonight.”

The doorbell rang just as she was adjusting the lighting to a softer glow.

Emma opened the door to find Ashley standing there with a tote bag over one shoulder, a tray of store-bought brownies, and a bottle of sparkling non-alcoholic rosé held like a prized trophy.

“Emergency reinforcements,” Ashley said with a grin.

“You’re a literal angel,” Emma said, pulling her into a hug.

They set everything down and flopped onto the couch together. The show they picked was some guilty-pleasure reality dating mess—just what they needed. Emma poured their drinks into coupe glasses to make it feel special, and Ashley unwrapped the brownies and passed one over.

“So,” Ashley said, curling her legs beneath her. “Want to talk about it?”

Emma hesitated, then nodded. “Abs and I got into it earlier. It wasn’t even anything huge, just… built-up stuff. Stress, expectations, feeling like we’re walking a tightrope sometimes.”

Ashley handed her another brownie. “I get that. You two are rock solid, but you’re still human.”

Emma leaned back, the flicker of the candle catching the shimmer in her eyes. “I told her to go out with Megan and unwind. Honestly, I think she needed it. We both did.”

Ashley tilted her head. “You’re allowed to need space. That’s part of loving someone. Letting them breathe.”

Emma chuckled softly, swirling the bubbles in her glass. “Why are you good at this?”

“Because I’ve been the stubborn one in a relationship,” Ashley said with a grin. “And I’ve also been the one crying into fries at 11 PM.”

Emma laughed. “Same. Honestly, this night already feels better. Thank you for coming.”

“Always,” Ashley said, reaching into her bag and pulling out two nail polish bottles. “Now the real question: soft neutral or holographic glitter?”

Emma gave her a look. “Glitter me, please.”

Ashley pulled Emma’s feet into her lap and started painting her toes with careful precision.

They settled into a rhythm—mocktails clinking, show commentary flowing, and the kind of laughter that comes from being totally at ease.