Kyle stepped into the apartment, his eyes immediately drawn to the coffee table where a small pharmacy’s worth of pills was scattered. Cold medicine, fever reducers, vitamin C tablets, throat lozenges. The packaging was torn open haphazardly, some pills still in their blister packs, others loose on the surface.

At least she was treating whatever was wrong with her. That was something.

Kyle’s attention shifted to the corner of the room where Calista and her mother stood close together, heads bent in whispered conversation. Their body language was tense, urgent.

Calista gesturing with her hands in that way people did when they were trying to explain something complicated quickly. Her mother listening intently, occasionally glancing over at Kyle before focusing back on her daughter.

They were definitely talking about him.

Kyle tried not to let it bother him. Of course they were. He’d shown up unexpectedly, met the mother, was now standing in Calista’s apartment while she was sick. The whole situation was weird enough to warrant discussion.

Then the mother audibly gasped, her hand going to her chest in genuine shock. She looked at Kyle with wide eyes before quickly composing herself, smoothing her expression into something more neutral.

Kyle sighed internally. Calista must have revealed some information about him she absolutely shouldn’t have. Probably mentioned the money, or the other women, or something about their arrangement that made the whole thing sound worse than it was. Or maybe she’d told her mother exactly what it was, which was arguably worse.

Mothers had opinions. Strong ones. Especially about the men their daughters were sleeping with.

Calista finished the whispered conversation and walked back toward the couch where Kyle stood. He was genuinely surprised she could stand, let alone walk steadily. With a fever that high, he’d expected her to be bedridden, barely able to lift her head. But she moved with determination, even if her steps were a bit unsteady.

She dropped onto the couch next to him with a heavy sigh, her body sagging like someone who’d been forcing themselves to stay upright through sheer willpower.

"Did your mother come to take care of you?" Kyle asked, trying to connect the dots. It would make sense, a mother showing up when her daughter was sick. That’s what good parents did.

Calista shook her head, the movement slow. "No. She was already here when I woke up feeling like death. Just one of her surprise visits."

"Convenient timing."

"Yeah." Calista’s eyes were already drooping, exhaustion written across every line of her face. She was fighting to stay awake, probably trying to be a good host or maintain some semblance of normalcy despite feeling like garbage.

Kyle made a decision. He shifted on the couch, adjusting his position and patting his thigh. "Come here."

Calista looked at him questioningly. 𝑓𝑟ℯ𝘦𝓌𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝑐ℴ𝓂

"Your head. Put it down. You look like you’re about to pass out sitting up."

For a moment he thought she might refuse, might insist she was fine despite all evidence to the contrary. But then she surrendered to the exhaustion, carefully lowering her head onto his lap, her body curling up on the couch.

Kyle started stroking her hair without really thinking about it, his fingers running through the messy strands in slow, soothing motions. It was an intimate gesture, more intimate in some ways than sex. The kind of thing you did for someone you actually cared about, not just someone you fucked occasionally.

He’d come here to fuck her. That had been the plan, the entire reason for the detour. The picture she’d sent had promised exactly that kind of afternoon but the delayed delivery had altered his perception of time. That picture was sent a day ago.

But this was what was happening instead, and Kyle found he didn’t mind as much as he probably should have.

His relationship with Calista was strange. Not like what he had with Jane, which was built on years of friendship and genuine affection. Not like Cassandra, which was mature and understanding and centered around mutual benefit. Not even like Ella, which was passionate and complicated and always teetering on the edge of something more.

Calista was supposed to be simple. Physical. The actress who’d tried to destroy his life and then somehow ended up in his bed instead. Someone he kept around because the sex was good and she served a purpose in his expanding world.

But sitting here, stroking her hair while she dozed feverishly on his lap, Kyle was beginning to wonder if it was actually that simple.

He glanced over at Calista’s mother, who’d settled into an armchair across the room with a cup of tea. She was watching them with an unreadable expression.

Kyle was beginning to understand that whatever Calista had turned out to be, however she’d learned to weaponize her sexuality and manipulate situations to her advantage, her mother had played a significant role in shaping that. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree. The same energy, the same approach to using what you had to get what you wanted.

But of course, Kyle had no reason to justify Calista’s actions. He couldn’t make excuses for her manipulative streak, for the way she’d tried to ruin him before they’d reached their current arrangement. She’d made her choices as an adult, was responsible for her own behavior.

Still, seeing where she came from, seeing the woman who’d raised her and modeled certain patterns of behavior, things were making a little more sense. Not excusing anything, just... contextualizing it.

"You’re good with her," Calista’s mother said suddenly, her voice breaking the comfortable silence. "Most men would’ve bolted the second they saw she was sick. Too much like actual relationship stuff, you know?"

Kyle met her eyes. "I’m not most men."

"I can see that." She took a sip of her tea, studying him over the rim of the cup. "She told me a little about you. Not much, but enough to be interesting."

"I’m sure whatever she told you made me sound like a terrible person."

"Actually, no." The mother smiled slightly. "She said you were complicated. That you treated her better than she probably deserved, given your history. That you had money but weren’t an asshole about it." She paused. "Also that you were very good in bed..."

Kyle couldn’t help but laugh quietly, trying not to disturb Calista. "Sorry about that."

"Don’t be. I’m glad she has someone who gives a damn, even if it’s complicated." She set down her tea. "I’m Vivienne, by the way. Since we’re apparently past the point of pretending this is casual."

"Kyle."

"I know." Vivienne’s smile widened slightly. "She said your name about six times in the last ten minutes."

Kyle looked down at Calista, whose breathing had evened out into actual sleep. Her face was flushed from fever, but peaceful. Vulnerable in a way she never let herself be when conscious.

He wondered what kind of woman she really was beneath all the performance, beneath the seduction and manipulation and careful cultivation of image. Whether there was something genuine under there, or if the masks had become the reality.

But sitting here with her head in his lap, her mother watching from across the room, Kyle realized he was more invested in finding out than he’d ever intended to be.