Anthony took the item from Andrew, then glanced up and noticed Andrew still standing there, looking a bit lost. Anthony raised an eyebrow. “Why are you just standing there?”
Andrew blinked, a little surprised. Was Anthony actually inviting him to get in the car? He had never ridden in Anthony’s car before, not once in his whole life.
He reached for the door handle, ready to slide in, but Anthony’s voice cut through the moment, cool as ever. “Don’t just stand around. Go call yourself a cab.”
Wait, what?
Andrew felt like the ground had just disappeared from under him. So that was it. He was just here to walk Charlotte out and carry her bag, nothing more than a glorified assistant.
Anthony caught the look on his face and his eyes narrowed. “You got a problem with that?”
Andrew shook his head fast. “Nope.” No way he was going to argue. Forget it. He tightened his grip on his bag and dashed off, not even looking back.
Inside the car, Charlotte slumped against Anthony’s shoulder, completely exhausted. She watched Andrew disappear down the sidewalk, a faint smile tugging at her pale lips. “Andrew looks terrified of you,” she whispered. “You’re kind of scary, you know.”
Anthony didn’t even miss a beat. “It’s not me, he’s just a chicken.” He pulled his jacket off and draped it gently over her stomach. “Is it hurting a lot?”
“A little.” Her voice was soft, almost a whisper.
“Just hang in there.” Anthony turned up the heat in the car, then told Hans to pick up the pace.
The drive was quiet until Charlotte’s phone suddenly rang. She had shifted from leaning on Anthony’s shoulder to curling up in his lap, tucked small and tight as she tried to deal with her cramps.
When the ringtone sounded, she nudged her forehead against Anthony’s chest, her words muffled. “My hand hurts.”
“I got it.” Anthony let out a quiet laugh. He reached over, one arm steadying her, and fished through her backpack until he found her white phone.

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