Page 104 of The Killer Card

Because I already have a flight home in two days.

Because his life is fourteen-hundred miles away.

I’m taking out my phone before I can even process what I’m doing, clicking the very first number on my favorites list and holding it to my ear while I rock on my bed.

He picks up on the third ring.

“Hello?” Nathan sounds slightly dazed when he answers. God, why did I call him? It’s nearly one in the morning. “Naomi?”

“I’m sorry,” I shake my head even though he can’t see it. “It’s late. I shouldn’t have called—”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” The bed creaks as he rises, leaving the comfort of his Egyptian cotton sheets and wildly handsome husband for me. “You can call me anytime.” A door closes. “What’s up?”

“I mean,” I sniffle, wiping my eyes with the back of my wrist. “Nothing really. Nelly is getting married tomorrow. We have to be up early to drive to New York.”

“Yeah… I know,” he says slowly. ‘Is that why you’re crying?”

“I’m not crying,” I lie.

"Mimi, I’ve known you all your life. I can tell when your fucking crying.” Nathan softens his voice. “Talk to me, baby girl. What’s wrong?”

My brother patiently waits on the other end of the line as I sniffle, cough, and try to find words big enough to describe the crisis I’ve arrived in. There are only three that really feel like they sum it up so perfectly.

“He loves me…”

"Who… Graham?” Nathan snorts. “Yeah, that’s not news, babe. And certainly not something you’ve ever cried about… Did something happen? Oh god,” he groans. “Did you two fuck again?! Are your fucking parts magnetized?! You literally can’t avoid connecting them?!”

When I don’t laugh he firms up his tone immediately. “Oh, shit, you’re like actually really sad.” My silence begins to worry him. “Naomi?”

I swallow another wave of sobs. “I love him too,” I gasp out.

"Oh, baby girl—"

“And I don’t know what to do, Nate! I don’t know how to leave him again now that I’ve admitted it to myself!”

“Leave?” I can literally hear his brow pinch. “Naomi, why would you have to leave?”

“I have a job in Boston!” I wail, standing to pace toward the window.

“So?” He asks like a job at a law firm is trivial. “Quit?”

“I literally just started!”

“I repeat- So?” Scoffing I scrub at my eyes again. “Naomi, do you even like that job? Do you even like Boston?”

“Of course—”

“Really? Because every time I come up you’re bitching about something. The accent, the weather, the coffee, the rain. Naomi,” he says sternly. “You fucking hate Boston, and you’re better than being an office drone.”

“Nathan, I can’t just quit—”

“And why not?”

“Because I need a job! Dad expects me to make my own way. Just like him. Just like you—”

“So come work for me.”

I turn away from the window and freeze, blinking several times because surely I must have misheard him. “What did you just say?”