Page 64 of Cashmere Cruelty

If you can’t see the stars, you should count yourself among them.

April offers me a glass. I take a whiff: bourbon.

“Found it in the cabinet,” she explains. “Thought it looked like something you’d drink. Neat, right?”

Speechless, I nod. I never told April my drink of choice, and yet, here she is—offering it up like she’s known all her life.

I watch her sip a tall, pink monstrosity. “Mocktail,” she explains, catching my gaze. “Don’t worry—I know Nugget’s not old enough to drink.”

I frown even harder. “Nugget?”

April points at her belly. “Can’t pick a name until I know if it’s a boy or a girl. So, until then…” she shrugs. “It was either that or Cheese Bite.”

“Your fondness for fast food concerns me.”

“Take it up with management,” April chuckles. “It was only mac and cheese for me until this little one came along. Now, I’m craving KFC every other minute.”

“Probably trying to make you eat healthier,” I mutter.

“Hey!” April protests, but there’s a smile playing on her lips. “Cheese isn’t that bad for you.”

“I’ll introduce you to a nutritionist one day.”

She pouts. “Killjoy.”

Then she leans on the railing with her elbows, looking down at the rest of the world.

In this light, her dark dress is almost invisible. Like she’s a part of the night itself, and the only thing covering her are shadows. Is it odd that I’m jealous of them—that they get to touch her and I don’t?

I try to tear my gaze away from her body, heavy with the evidence of what we did; from her eyes, filled with artificial stars and happiness.Warmth.

I fail miserably.

“Did something happen today?”

I snap back to the present. April spoke, but she isn’t looking at me: her gaze is still fixed on Manhattan.

Part of me wants to tell her. That’s the most terrifying realization of all: Iwantto tellher. This woman, thisstranger, is prying me open without even trying. A bloodless, effortless interrogation.

But I steel myself. I’m not this weak. If feminine wiles were all it took to crack me, Petra would have the keys to the fucking kingdom by now.

“Nothing unusual.”

And then there’s the other reason.

April glances at me then, still a bit fearful. Like she’s expecting me to blow up at her for simply breathing in the same space as me. It makes me furious—that someone taught her this. That she was raised like this. If I had any less restraint, I’d have gone knocking at her parents’ doors and demanded answers by now.

“Nothing?”

Thisis the other reason—the worry in her eyes. She thinks something’s got me in a mood, and that alone is enough to put a look like that on her face. Why the fuck would I tell her that we lost our only lead?

It would be bad for her. Most of all, it would be bad for the baby.

That’s what I tell myself over and over.This is all for the baby.Not for her.

To me, April Flowers means…

“Nothing,” I confirm, and down the last of my drink.

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