He calls her before he can overthink it.
The city is loud outside the penthouse windows, but inside it's quiet enough to hear his own breathing.
It rings twice.
Three times.
Then—
"Hi."
Her voice is warm.
Not fragile.
Not distant.
Just… her.
He leans back against the kitchen counter.
"Hey."
There's a shuffle on her end.
Background noise.
Laughter.
"Are you with Amelia?" he asks.
"Unfortunately," Amelia's voice cuts in immediately. "I live here now."
Zane huffs out a laugh despite himself.
"I thought you lived with your parents."
"I do. But not right now."
Sunny laughs softly in the background.
He closes his eyes for a second.
He can picture it too easily.
The couch.
The messy coffee table.
Amelia probably cross-legged on the floor.
Normal.
Safe.
"How's pop star life?" Amelia asks loudly, clearly hovering near the phone.
"Glamorous," he replies dryly.
"Mm," she hums. "Careful, Calder."
He raises an eyebrow automatically.
"Careful of what?"
"If you don't come back soon," she says lightly, "someone might steal your girl from you."
There's a beat of silence.
Sunny immediately cuts in.
"Amelia."
"What? I'm joking."
"It's not funny."
Zane forces a chuckle.
"It's fine."
But it's not.
Not entirely.
The line lodges somewhere under his ribs.
Steal your girl.
He's the one who left.
Not the other way around.
Still—
The idea flickers unpleasantly.
Someone closer.
Someone present.
Someone not ten hours away.
"How are rehearsals?" Sunny asks gently, steering the conversation back.
"Busy," he says. "A lot of adjustments."
"Good adjustments?"
He hesitates.
"Different."
She doesn't push.
"Different can be good."
There's that steadiness again.
She doesn't demand.
Doesn't accuse.
Doesn't sound worried.
He almost wishes she would.
Just a little.
"How's everyone?" he asks.
"Laura's pretending not to be stressed," Sunny says. "Axel's pretending he's not noticing."
He smiles faintly.
"And you?"
"I'm fine."
She says it clearly.
No crack in her voice.
No hidden plea.
Just… fine.
He waits for something more.
It doesn't come.
Amelia's voice drifts in again.
"Tell him about the café guy."
"Amelia," Sunny warns.
"What café guy?" Zane asks before he can stop himself.
Sunny exhales softly.
"There isn't a café guy."
"There was a café guy," Amelia insists. "He asked if she was single."
"And what did you say?" Zane asks, too casually.
"That I wasn't," Sunny replies immediately.
No hesitation.
No teasing.
Just fact.
His shoulders loosen slightly.
Still—
He imagines the scene.
Someone local.
Close.
Available.
He swallows.
"We're good," Sunny says quietly now, Amelia's voice fading into the background. "Right?"
The question isn't insecure.
It's steady.
He nods automatically, forgetting she can't see him.
"Yeah," he says. "We're good."
And they are.
Technically.
There's no fight.
No betrayal.
No accusation.
Just distance.
Just time.
Just ten hours and a contract and a city that doesn't slow down.
They talk a little longer.
About small things.
Editing deadlines.
Upcoming showcases.
Weather.
Normal.
Surface-level.
Like they're protecting something fragile by not pressing too hard.
When they hang up, it's mutual.
Not abrupt.
Not dramatic.
"Call me tomorrow?" she says.
"Yeah."
"I miss you."
There it is.
Soft.
Simple.
He freezes for half a second.
"I miss you too."
He means it.
He does.
The line goes quiet.
The call ends.
The penthouse feels larger after the screen goes dark.
He stares at his reflection in the black phone display.
Zane Calder.
Sharp.
Elevated.
On schedule.
Someone might steal your girl.
The words replay.
Not because he doubts her.
Because he doubts himself.
Because he knows how easy it is to drift.
How easy it is to become something else in a new city.
How easy it is to forget what steadiness feels like.
He sets the phone down carefully.
The city hums outside.
Alive.
Restless.
Hungry.
And for the first time—
He wonders if he is too.