I blink fast. “You called.”
“Yeah,” he says, and I can hear the faint clink of a glass. “Didn’t really plan it. Saw your text and just hit call.”
“What time is it there?”
“Middle of the day. You?”
“Past ten. I’m in bed.”
“Yeah?” There’s a smile in his voice now. “You decent, Mrs. Miller?”
I snort. “We’re not married anymore, remember?”
He goes quiet. “I remember.”
The silence after that one hurts.
I clear my throat. “Why’d you really call?”
He exhales, long. “I don’t know. I just wanted to hear you. That okay?”
My eyes burn. “Yeah, it’s okay.”
“I miss you, Mya.”
My throat closes. “I miss you too.”
He’s quiet for a second, like he’s letting himself feel it. “How’s Paris?”
“Pretty,” I say, wiping under my eye with my thumb. “Loud. Smells like bread. Tiny apartments.”
“You like it?”
“I do. I needed it.”
“I know,” he says, and I can tell he means it. “I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks,” I murmur. “How’s Bri?”
“She’s good. She misses you too.”
I press the heel of my hand to my sternum like that will keep everything in. “When I’m ready to talk… about us, I will.”
“I know. Ball is in your court, Kitten.”
“Don’t call me that.” Though there’s no heat in it.
“No.” I can picture his smirk. “Not stopping.”
I laugh. “You’re annoying.”
“Maybe.” After a beat, he asks, “What are you wearing?”
I hesitate to reply because this can’t lead anywhere good. But the way his tone went down an octave, and the way my body instantly reacted to his voice… I know I won’t stop what’s coming.
“One of your t-shirts. The one with Freddie Mercury’s face on it.”
“I was wondering where that went.” Worth chuckles. “What’s underneath?”