Chapter 302
**Sara**
I stepped into Tom's apartment, the familiar scent of his cologne lingering in the air. The place felt different without him—too quiet, too empty like someone had dimmed all the lights even though they were on full blast.
My heels clicked against the hardwood as I went to the couch, tossing my bag aside. The leather cushions welcomed me with their usual softness, but without Tom's warmth beside me, it felt more like sinking into a void.
"This is pathetic," I muttered, pulling my legs up. "He's been gone less than twenty-four hours, and I'm already moping around his apartment like a lost puppy."
My fingers found my phone before my brain caught up with the action. There were no messages or missed calls, just the photo of us on the lock screen.
I stared at the photo - Tom caught mid-laugh at something I'd said, his eyes crinkling at the corners. My thumb hovered over his contact info before I gave in and pressed call.
Ring. Ring. Ring.
"Come on, pick up." I drummed my fingers against my knee. "Unless you're being responsible and actually sleeping like a normal person."
Voicemail. Of course.
"Hey, it's me." I paused, suddenly feeling silly. "Which you probably knew from caller ID. Unless you don't have my number saved, in which case we need to have a serious talk when you get back."
I flopped onto my side, phone pressed to my ear. "Not that this is a serious talk. This is more of a 'I'm sitting in your empty apartment talking to your voicemail because I'm apparently that person now' kind of talk."
A car honked outside, making me jump.
"Anyway, you're probably sleeping. Like a sensible human being who just flew across an ocean. Unlike some people who are leaving rambling voicemails at..." I checked the time. "Oh god, I don't even want to do that math. Just pretend I said something witty and delete this when you wake up."
I hung up and buried my face in a throw pillow. "Smooth, Sara. Real smooth. Nothing says 'I'm totally fine with you being away' like drunk-dialing levels of voicemail rambling."
My phone burst into life, lighting up the dim room. My heart jumped - but Tom's name didn't appear on the screen. Instead, my brother's goofy contact photo grinned back at me.
"Well, well, well," I answered with exaggerated surprise. "Someone finally learned how to use a phone and called me. Should I alert the media?"
"That's rich coming from you," Charles shot back. "I've seen hibernating bears more active than your calling habits. What's it been, three months?"
"Four, actually." I stretched out on the couch. "But who's counting?"
"Mom is. Down to the minute, probably."
"Yeah, well..." I picked at a loose thread on the pillow. "I've been busy learning this new technological marvel called a telephone. It's quite complicated, you know. All these buttons and numbers..."
"Uh-huh." His eye roll was practically audible. "And I suppose you've been too busy mastering the art of dialing to use it?"
"Exactly! Finally, someone understands my struggle." I flopped onto my back. "Do you know how hard it is to remember which end to talk into?"
"Must be exhausting." Charles chuckled. "Almost as exhausting as avoiding Mom's weekly interrogations about your love life."
I groaned, sinking deeper into the couch. "What about my love life?"
"Well, it's emptier than Dad's attempts at cooking healthy. At this rate, you'll end up being that crazy cat lady down the street. You know, the one with seventeen cats all named after Shakespeare characters?"
"First of all, Shakespeare wrote some great character names." I kicked my feet up. "And second, my love life is none of your business."
"As your older brother, everything's my business." His voice took on that annoying know-it-all tone. "Someone has to make sure you don't die alone."
"Oh really?" I sat up straighter. "Before you start questioning my life choices, maybe take a look at your own. How long have you been dating Melissa now? Five years? Six?"
"Five and a half," he muttered.
"Right. And how many times have you said 'We'll get married soon' in those five and a half years?"
"Hey, we're working on it!"
"Working on it?" I snorted. "Charles, bread mold works faster than you do. Are you sure Melissa's even real? Maybe you hired an actress for family dinners."
"Very funny." He didn't sound amused. "For your information, we're planning-"
"To get married soon?" I finished in a sing-song voice. "You've been saying that forever."
"At least I have someone! When's the last time you brought anyone home?"
"Maybe I'm just better at keeping secrets than you are." I examined my nails, trying to sound casual. "Besides, is Melissa really your girlfriend if she's getting paid by the hour?"
"She is NOT-" He stopped. "Wait, what do you mean 'better at keeping secrets'?"
"Nothing!" I said quickly. Too quickly. "Absolutely nothing."
Charles's laugh crackled through the phone. "Nice try changing the subject, but I know deflection when I hear it. You're about as subtle as Dad's BBQ explosions."
"I have no idea what you're talking about." I twisted a strand of hair around my finger.
"Please. You're doing that squeaky voice thing you do when you lie."
"I do not have a squeaky voice!"
"There it is again!" He sounded way too pleased with himself. "Face it, sis. You couldn't keep a secret if your life depended on it."
"I absolutely can!"
"Remember when you tried to hide that you broke Mom's vase?"
"I was twelve!"
"You blamed it on the neighbor's cat. We didn't have neighbors with cats."
"That's..." I huffed. "That's completely different."
"Or what about the time you tried to convince everyone you hadn't eaten the last cookie?"
"With chocolate all over my face ONE TIME, and suddenly I'm branded for life."
"My point exactly." His smug tone made me want to reach through the phone and smack him. "So when you say you've got secrets, what you really mean is you've got nothing."
"I..." I stopped myself. "Fine. You win. No secrets. Happy now?"
"Yeah, I'm so happy." He paused. "Oh wait, Mom mentioned you got a new job?"
"Did she now?"
"Yeah, something about finance? Though knowing you, it's probably just a paper route."
"Ha ha." I rolled my eyes. "For your information, I got hired at Westbridge Capital."
"Westbridge?" His voice jumped an octave. "Seriously?"
"What, surprised your little sister landed a real job?"
"I'm more surprised they let you through the door." Charles snickered. "Come on, spill - how'd you land that gig so fast after finishing your MBA? Did you bribe someone? Or maybe you've got some juicy private videos for blackmail?"
"Oh my god, you're such an idiot." I stretched out on the couch, kicking my feet up. "For your information, Claire helped me out. It's her friend's company."
"Claire? That explains it. Just work hard, okay? Keep the Parker name standing out."
"I will, I promise." I shifted on Tom's couch, trying to get comfortable. "But you haven't mentioned why you suddenly remembered how to use a phone yourself."
"Oh, right!" Charles's voice perked up. "I'm heading home tomorrow. Mom said you're coming too?"
"Yeah." I sighed dramatically. "Her Majesty has summoned me to the castle. Complete with threats of exposing my eighth-grade dance photos if I don't show."
"The purple tutu ones?"
"Don't remind me."
"Want me to pick you up tomorrow?"
I glanced around Tom's empty apartment. "Sure, why not? Save me from the cabs."
"Great. I'll grab you around four?"
"Perfect." A mischievous grin spread across my face. "Oh, and bring Melissa too. You know, so we can verify she's not actually a paid actress."
"Very funny." He groaned. "I'll ask her, but no promises."
"Afraid she'll charge overtime?"
"I'm hanging up now."
"Love you too, big brother!"
The line went dead, and I immediately checked my messages. There was still nothing from Tom. The photo of us stared back at me, his smile frozen in time.
"Come on, Professor," I muttered at the screen. "Give a girl a sign you're alive down under."
The screen remained stubbornly dark. No response. No little typing bubbles. Just my own reflection staring back at me.
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