“These guys, Tox, Steady, Cam, they all do the bang and bounce. They’re out the door before the sun comes up. A month to these guys is like an engagement to most men.”
Calliope noted Twitch had excluded Tox’s swim buddy and best friend Finn McIntyre from the list, despite the fact that he was the most egregious offender. There was a story there, but Twitch would share when she was ready. She gave Twitch her full attention.
“That being said.” Twitch took a bracing sip of wine. “Tox isn’t like that. I mean he is, but deep down he isn’t. He gets attached to people. Being an asshole is his way of staying detached. He tends to dive in the deep end, so one-night stands are his way of staying out of the pool altogether. Does that make sense?”
“I’m sensing there’s more to the story.”
“It’s not my story to tell, but just know, this may not be healthy for him. He’s already a little dazzled by you.”
“Just a little?”
“Truthfully, no. A lot.”
“Good.”
“I’m serious, Calliope. Tox has trouble letting go.”
“I don’t know how much longer I’ll even be in New York. He can’t have trouble letting go of something he can’t get a hold of.”
“Don’t underestimate his skills.”
“Not this gal.”
“The gal who was following him around Harlem?”
“Whatever.”
“Question.” Twitch set her wineglass on the coffee table, the surface of which was old metal band album covers laminated together.
Calliope quirked a brow.
“How do you do it?”
“Do what?”
“End it? I mean, if a guy doesn’t want to end things and you do, how do you communicate that you’re serious?”
Calliope assessed her friend. Her usual pie-eyed optimism was tinged with a pained vulnerability.
“If you mean it, they know.”
Twitch nodded, defeated.
Calliope thought about pressing Twitch to spill whatever was hurting her heart, but she could sense her reticence. So she raised her glass in a toast and winked at her friend. A knock on the door had them both looking up.
“Expecting anyone?”
Calliope scampered to the door, peeked through the sidelight, and squealed. Coco barked from the couch but didn’t move. Twitch joined her at the door as Emily Bishop wedged a double stroller through. Her thirteen-month-old twin boys, Jack and Charlie, wide awake in the passenger seats. Calliope and Twitch threw their arms around Emily, and the group moved into the living room. Twitch unbuckled the boys and situated them on the plush carpet while Calliope poured Emily a glass of pinot noir.
“Why didn’t you text? I could have helped you up the stairs.”
“JT helped me.” She gestured through the front window to the man in the driver’s seat of a black Escalade. “Trust me, pulling these two little hulks up ten stairs exceeds my load limit.”
“You still have a bodyguard?” Calliope questioned.
“Have you met my husband?” Emily rolled her eyes. “Besides, JT’s practically family. Nathan hired him so he could continue working for me. He’s actually from South Carolina, so he was happy to move. He’s helping Nathan with the renovation of the office space.”
Twitch and Calliope each snatched a toddler and perched them on their laps. Twitch asked, “How are things in South Carolina?”