Chapter 69

The condo was silent except for the faint hum of the fridge and the occasional creak of settling wood. Early morning light slipped through the blinds, painting soft gold streaks across the floor. Everyone was still passed out from the night before Rowan in one guest room, Simone and Lila tangled up under blankets in the other, and Celeste on the couch, her body curled beneath a throw, chest rising and falling in slow, heavy breaths.

Naomi stirred first. Her lashes fluttered against the pillow, her brows pinching as her body reminded her of last night’s liquor. She sat up carefully, running a hand down her face, and when she realized she wasn’t in her own place, her stomach dropped.

Celeste’s bed.

The sheets smelled like her perfume, faint traces of lavender and clean linen mixed with something uniquely Celeste. Naomi’s throat tightened as flashes of the night before rushed in.

Her own voice echoed in her head, raw and desperate:
“Why can’t you just want me?”
“Be mine, Celeste.”

Naomi pressed the palms of her hands into her eyes, groaning softly. She hadn’t been slurring. She hadn’t said it as a joke. She’d meant every word. And that realization scared her more than the sharp throb behind her temples.

With a shaky breath, she swung her legs over the side of the bed. She found her jacket draped over a chair, her heels kicked off in the corner. Naomi moved quietly, careful not to wake anyone, her movements deliberate. She didn’t want to answer questions. She didn’t even want to see the look on Celeste’s face—not yet.

Pausing at the bedroom door, she glanced back at the bed one last time. The sheets were still warm, still carrying her weight. She swallowed hard and slipped out into the hallway.

The condo was still, save for the sound of Celeste shifting faintly in her sleep. Naomi peeked into the living room. Celeste was curled tightly on the couch, blanket tucked under her chin, her features soft but troubled, like even in her dreams something weighed on her.

Naomi’s heart twisted. She almost walked over, almost tucked the blanket closer around her like she always did when they had sleepovers in the past. But if she did… she might not leave.

So instead, she exhaled shakily, pulled her hood over her head, and let herself out the front door.

By the time Celeste stirred, the condo was alive again with the sounds of morning groans and complaints from Simone and Lila. Rowan was in the kitchen, hair mussed, pouring herself water and mumbling about needing coffee.

Celeste sat up on the couch, stretching her sore back. Immediately, her eyes flicked toward her bedroom door. Closed. Her stomach sank.

“She gone?” she asked softly, more to herself than to anyone else.

Her phone buzzed on the coffee table, lighting up with a message.

She picked it up and read slowly, her breath catching as her eyes scanned the words.

Naomi: Made it home. I remember everything from last night. And while I meant every word of it, I’m sorry for throwing it out there the way I did. I just… I need to distance myself for a while, figure my shit out. I want to give you the space and opportunity to do the same without me being in your face every day.

Celeste’s hand trembled slightly as she lowered the phone. She read the text again. And again. Every word sank heavier into her chest.

She leaned back against the couch cushions, clutching the phone to her sternum as if she could hold the message closer to her heart. Her eyes stung, not from exhaustion, but from the ache swelling inside her.

“Damn it, Nae…” she whispered, voice breaking in the empty air.

Around her, Simone and Lila’s laughter at some dumb hangover joke barely registered. Rowan’s footsteps in the kitchen didn’t matter.

Celeste sat frozen on the couch, Naomi’s text still glowing on her screen. Her thumb hovered over the keyboard, her heart pounding. She knew Naomi meant what she wrote—that she needed space, that she needed time—but the idea of her vanishing completely pressed on Celeste’s chest like a weight she couldn’t breathe under.

Her fingers finally moved, tapping out a message with more urgency than she intended.

Celeste: Please don’t disappear on me, Nae.

She stared at the words, afraid they sounded too desperate, but hit send anyway.

Seconds stretched into what felt like forever. Celeste bit her lip, her foot tapping anxiously against the floor. When her phone finally buzzed again, she snatched it up instantly.

Naomi: I would never do that to you. If you need me, I am always here—remember that. I just need some time, Celeste.

Celeste exhaled shakily, her eyes closing as she pressed the phone to her chest. The reply soothed some of the panic curling inside her, but it didn’t erase the ache. Naomi wasn’t gone. But she wasn’t here either.

“Some time,” Celeste whispered, testing the words out loud. They felt heavy in her mouth. Too heavy.

From the kitchen, Rowan’s voice carried. “Food’s almost ready—want me to make you a plate?”

Celeste swallowed hard, forcing her voice steady as she called back, “Yeah, thanks.”

Her fingers moved before she could overthink it.

Celeste: I want you, Naomi.

The typing bubbles appeared almost immediately, then stopped. Started again. Stopped. The seconds dragged until finally Naomi’s reply popped up.

Naomi: Celeste… you don’t have to say that. You’re only saying it because you think you’re going to lose me.

Celeste sat up straighter, her jaw tightening as she fired back without hesitation.

Celeste: No. I mean it.

Her chest ached as she waited, the silence between their texts feeling heavier than any scream. Finally, Naomi’s response came through, softer, but just as cutting.

Naomi: But I’m not the only one you want. And that’s okay. When you’re ready to make the decision… let me know.

Celeste stared at the message, her throat dry, her heart thundering against her ribs. She wanted to scream, to throw the phone across the room, to run after Naomi and prove every word she’d just typed. But instead, all she could do was sit there—silent, with her phone clutched in her hands—as Naomi’s words settled like a stone in her chest.

In the kitchen, the sound of Rowan’s laugh drifted out, soft and warm. It cut straight through Celeste, reminding her exactly what Naomi meant.

Her heart wanted both. But she knew she couldn’t keep them both. Not forever.