<h4>Chapter 89: No Drama</h4>


    Sarah


    I let the phone drop into myp and lean back in the chair, looking up at the sky.


    Matthew will have to live with me being friends Josh. He will probably be fine. Probably. Maybe.


    I sigh and stand up, stretching my back. I should warn Reba that Hurricane Josh is about to makendfall.


    "Josh ising over," I announce.


    Reba looks up from where she’s crouched by the baseboard, paintbrush in hand. The room is already half-transformed, the color brightening the space in a way that makes my chest feel full.


    Reba’s eyebrows shoot up. "Josh? As in Josh, who Matthew practically grows hives thinking about?"


    I shrug, trying for casual. "He called while I was on the balcony. He was in the neighborhood."


    "I see." Reba sets down her brush and sits back on her heels. "Does Matthew know?"


    "I didn’t go out of my way and told him." I pick at a loose thread on my shirt. "I don’t need his permission for friends to visit."


    Reba shrugs. "I guess he will live. And I am here so it’s not like you are alone with him."


    "I am an adult, Becky. I don’t need a chaperone to see Josh," I say. "And he said he has a gift for the baby."


    "Fine. But you are exining to Matthew why his archenemies’ fingerprints are all over his child’s bedroom." Reba grins.


    Iugh. "They are not archenemies. This isn’t aic book." But even as I say it, I can picture them in spandex suits, facing off across a cityscape. Matthew in sensible blue, Josh in something wild, like neon.


    "Tell that to Matthew’s face whenever Josh’s namees up." Reba stands and stretches. "I’m almost done with this wall. Should be dry enough for a second coat by the time he gets here."


    Josh arrives in less than twenty minutes.


    I open the door to find him leaning against the wall, a lopsided grin on his face and arge, clumsily wrapped package tucked under one arm.


    "There she is!" He sweeps me into a hug before I can prepare for it, the package jabbing awkwardly between us. He smells like he always does—coffee and that specific deodorant he’s used since I’ve known him, with an underlying hint of cigarettes, though he swears he has quit. "Look at you, all glowy and maternal."


    I extract myself from his bear hug. "I’m not glowing, I’m sweating. It’s hot in here."


    "Pregnancy suits you." His eyes move to my stomach, and there’s something tender in his expression that makes me look away. "How far along now? Four months?"


    "Sixteen weeks," I confirm. "Size of an avocado, ording to the app."


    Joshughs. "Leave it to technology topare babies to produce. Here—" He thrusts the package toward me. "Baby’s first gift from Uncle Josh."


    "Uncle Josh?" I raise an eyebrow, but I’m smiling as I take the package.


    "Every kid needs a cool uncle to teach them inappropriate things and sneak them candy." He follows me into the living room, looking around. "ce hasn’t changed much. Still got that uglymp?"


    "Hey! I like thismp!" I exim.


    "You need to reevaluate your taste in things." Josh flops onto the sofa, taking up too much space as always. "Open it!"


    I sit beside him and carefully pull at the tapedic pages. Inside is a stuffed animal. A plushie of Venom.


    Iugh. "You really loveic book characters."


    "That’s my brand." He taps the side of his head. "Where’s Bec? I heard she was ying interior decorator."


    "In the nursery," I tell him.


    "Great, I’ll go say hi." Josh stands up.


    Reba is adding a second coat when we reach the nursery doorway. She looks over her shoulder at the sound of our approach, and her face breaks into a genuine smile. "Josh! I’d hug you, but..." She gestures at her paint-covered hands.


    "Bec! Look at you, all domestic and shit. The color’s perfect, by the way. Very conducive to baby genius development."


    I watch them chatter. It was so good to have my friends here, together. There was a time when I thought I’d never be able to fix things with Reba.


    The doorbell suddenly rings.


    I lifted my brow. I wasn’t expecting anyone else today.


    "Are you expecting someone?" Josh asks, his head tilting slightly.


    I shake my head, brows drawn. "Nope. Unless it’s Matthew, but Matthew has a key, so he wouldn’t ring the doorbell."


    The doorbell rings again, insistently this time.


    I rush to the door to open it. I pull open the door to find Matthew standing there.


    "Hey," he says, looking me up and down. "I forgot my key."


    "Oh." I smile at him, but he doesn’t smile back.


    Still trying to act cold and distant, huh?


    He follows me inside, kicking the door shut behind him. I can feel the exact moment he registers the extra pair of shoes by the door.


    He narrows his eyes. "Do we havepany?"


    Before I can answer, Josh’s boomingugh echoes from the nursery, followed by Reba’s softer giggle. Matthew’s jaw tightens.


    "Josh and Reba stopped by," I say, trying to sound casual.


    Matthew’s face is still dark. "I see."


    Oh boy, he does not look happy.


    "Hey, who was at the—" Josh appears in the hallway, stopping short when he sees Matthew. "Oh. Hey, man."


    "Josh." Matthew’s voice is cool but not openly hostile. Progress, I suppose.


    An awkward silence falls over the room. Reba appears behind Josh, her expression cautious as she looks between the two men.


    "I’m gonna go shower," Matthew says curtly and leaves the room.


    Josh lets out a whistle. "Whew! He does not like me at all, does he?" he muses.


    I exhale, feeling the tension like a storm cloud pressing down over the house. "He’s just...I don’t know," I mutter.


    Josh raises an eyebrow. "A jealous asshole?"


    Reba steps in. "Let’s not poke the bear, okay? This house is too nice to get bloodstains on the walls."


    Josh smirks but lifts both hands in surrender. "Fine. I’ll behave. I brought a gift, I made conversation, I refrained from flipping him off. Gold star for Uncle Josh."


    I rub my temples. "Can we just...not make this a thing? I don’t want drama today."


    "You got it." Josh slouches back toward the nursery. "But if hees out and tries to challenge me to a duel, I call lightsabers."


    "Grow up," Reba mutters, but she is grinning.


    I linger in the hallway, biting my lip. I didn’t do anything wrong so why do I feel guilty?


    Josh has been my friend forever. And Matthew knew that. We’ve talked about this. Or, well, argued about this.


    "I should go talk to him. Ask him what he wants for dinner," I mutter and walk to the bedroom.


    I pause outside the bedroom door, hand hovering just above the knob. The door is closed, but I can hear faint movement inside. Drawers opening, the soft thud of something being set down. I take a breath, then go in.


    I step into the bedroom just as Matthew pulls his shirt over his head, revealing the familiar, muscled nes of his back. My breath catches in my throat as he tosses the garment onto the bed. His shoulder des flex as he walks toward the bathroom.


    "Hey," I say, my voiceing out more high-pitched than I intended.


    He turns, and a sudden flush of heat spreads through me, unexpected and urgent. Even after all this time, his bare skin affects me like a fever.


    "I thought you were entertaining your guests," he says, but his eyes catch mine, registering the shift in my expression.


    "I..." My thoughts scatter. I can’t remember why I came in here. Something about dinner? Instead, I find myself crossing the room toward him.


    "Sarah?" he looks at me questioningly.


    I ce my palm against his chest. "I missed you today," I breathe.


    He covers my hand with his own, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. "Yeah?"


    "Yeah." I lean in, breathing in the scent of his skin. My free hand traces the contour of his side, feeling the subtle ridge of each rib.


    Matthew’s breath hitches. "Are you trying to distract me?" he asks.


    His hands find my hips, warm and steady.


    "Distract you from what?" I counter, my fingers trailing down to the button of his jeans.


    He catches my wrist, stopping me. "From Josh."


    "Why would I want to do that? Are you still jealous of him?" I ask coyly.


    He ces his hand on my belly. "Why should I be? Does he still want to y daddy?"


    I gasp. "He never did!"


    Matthew’s jaw flexes, but his eyes stay on mine, dark and intense. "Could’ve fooled me," he says quietly, fingers syed protectively over the curve of my belly.


    I take a small step back, but I don’t break his gaze. "You’re being unfair," I say, voice soft but firm.


    He leans in and kisses me fast and hard before walking away from me.


    God, he IS an asshole sometimes.


    "Whatever. Be that way," I murmur and leave the room. He can sulk all day if he wants to, but I’ve got a nursery to decorate.


    I storm out of the bedroom, my pulse still racing from our encounter. I just don’t understand Matthew at all. How can he go from touching me so tenderly to being so infuriating in the span of seconds?


    As I reach the hallway, a wave of dizziness hits me without warning. The floor seems to tilt beneath my feet, and I stumble, catching myself against the wall. My vision clouds at the edges, dark spots dancing across my sight.


    "Whoa," I whisper, but my voice sounds distant to my own ears.


    I try to take another step toward the nursery, but my legs feel like they are made of cotton. The dizziness intensifies, and a sharp painnces through my abdomen.


    My knees buckle. I slide down the wall, unable to stay upright.


    Something is wrong.