Only You by Aurora Snow

na'

I could hear a heartbeat, but I wasn't sure if it was mine or the house's. It was a rhythmic, thudding sound that eventually morphed into something sharper, something more mechanical. I turned

rimg

ring a frantic rhythm against my ribs. For a confused second, I didn't know where I was. The room was bathed in the hazy, dim orange

ntique clock on th

ubbing the sleep from my

dream job, but it was a marathon of the mind. Reading three hundred pages of a poorly paced thriller before lunch tended to drain the soul in a way no amount of caffeine could fix. I scrambled off the sof

ute worst - breakups, food poisoning, and the disastrous "perm incident" of 2019.

ll

racticed harmony. It was a sound that acted like

pressing the buzzer to relea

l plastic of the receiver for a split second. I loved them, truly, but tonight I felt a strange heaviness, a prickl

elt safe. But tonight, it felt off. Below, a lone car sat idling under a flickering streetlamp. Its headlights were off, but the exhaust curled into the chilly autumn

It's Pamper Night. Stop being a charact

hang-out; it was a sanctuary. Life was moving too fast - between Marissa's kids and Cleo'

- no bottled mix allowed. By the time I heard the thunder of footsteps on the stairs, I was already rimmi

eo announced, striking

. Her chocolate-toned skin glowed, and today she'd styled her black braids into a high, intricate bun that showcased the vibrant pin

y. My adoptive sister stood about 5'6", with a slightly thicker, curvier frame and pale skin dusted with a constellatio

bag is damn heavy," Mari g

abandoning the li

hared history of a lifetime. Marissa, usually the most grounded of us, was practically vibrating. Cl

scerning from her role as C.O.O. at Masemann Books, held that deep-seated weariness that o

th down a stray curl. "I was reading the Taylor manuscript.

ng for the tequila bottle. "From one workahol

eading them toward the kitchen island. "And Mari, don't talk to me

debating a four-year-old on why we don't put Lego in the toaster. I'm the C.O.O. of a major publishing house, yet I'm being out-negoti

drooms to bibs. Don't worry, we're goin

hile trying to make sure Henry doesn't set the house on fire or flood the kitchen. Someone had to watch the kids while I made my escape. Usually, they'd

We had all known Ben since Reception at Fellsdello Primary Academy - he'd been the boy in t

id gently. "It's good that he and Gre

d pilfered from the school garden, showed me how to make the 'mouth' of the flower pop open, and said, 'Mari, you're my best friend, I love you and I'm going to marry you one day.' And even though

stranger with Ben's face. The w

ed margarita toward Mari. "But tonight is about us. No bo

took charge of the coffee table, emptying the suitcase. It w

as!" I called out,

to my favourite armchair, watching the condensation bea

"I've got hydrating eye patches, a foot peel, and the new Essie collection. Ti, y

. Mari, we know you're knee-deep in nappies, but Cleo.

udging Cleo. "G

was creeping up her neck. "Okay, so... I

everything! Who is he? Is he a lawyer? Does he

a lie, so muscular - the body of a god. He's got these deep Italian roots - big, noisy family, generations under one roof, th

"Cleo, that is so cliché

g his picture taken. Like, really hates it. I tried to snap a candid of him at the coffee shop, and he got almost defensive. Said h

publisher instincts kicking in. "In 20

said, poking me in the ribs. "He had one on his

haven't been on a date since Todd, and we

knew she was right. Todd had been a disaster. "Besides, I'm happy

ur succulents," Cleo said, reaching for her phone. "Maybe we should make

I...."

ng excuse

st, the flash of Cle

in headlights, but in a 'rescue me' kind of way