Page 182 of Micah
Nobody's pretending.
Nobody's performing.
They're just there for each other.
Family.
And somehow they've pulled up another chair without making me feel like I have to earn it.
I don't realize how much time has passed until my eyes drift toward the clock on the microwave.
The knot in my stomach returns instantly.
Reality crashing in.
The bar.
Work.
Patrick.
My smile fades.
I glance toward Micah.
“Um...”
His attention shifts to me immediately.
“Yeah, Princess?”
His hand settles against the small of my back beneath the table.
Not possessive.
Reassuring.
His expression softens the second he notices mine. Concern replaces the easy smile he'd been wearing all morning.
“I...”
I hate being the one to break this little bubble we've all been living in.
“I have to go to the bar.”
The words come out quieter than I'd intended.
“I don't even have my phone, and I should probably start cleaning up...”
“Shit.” Micah's eyebrows lift. “I forgot to tell you.”
He stands and crosses to the kitchen counter.
“I meant to give this to you last night.”
He returns holding my phone.
I take it from him.
