And suddenly, the press doesn't matter. My mother's disapproval doesn't matter. Nothing outside this apartment matters.
"This is home," I whisper, too quiet for any of them to hear.
But as I rise to join them at the table, as Alex serves the meal he's prepared, as Julian pours sparkling water into my glass with a flourish, as Tristan's hand finds my knee beneath the table, I know it's true.
"To us," Julian proposes a toast, raising his glass.
"To us," we echo, our glasses meeting with a gentle chime that sounds like a promise.
Chapter 34
Camille
Iglance around at my three men. They’ve all accompanied me to my doctor’s appointment, each occupying the waiting room in his own way: Tristan scanning medical pamphlets with intense focus, Julian talking sports with another dad, and Alex standing by the window, back straight, checking emails on his phone. My unlikely support system, drawn together by the tiny life growing inside me.
"Ms. Montclair?" The nurse appears in the doorway, her eyes widening slightly as all three men stand with me. "Um… the doctor is ready for you now."
I feel a hand on my back—Alex's—gently guiding me forward. "We're all coming in," he says to the nurse, his tone making it clear this isn't a question.
The nurse hesitates for just a moment before nodding. "Of course. Right this way."
We follow her down the corridor. Julian winks at me when I glance back at him, while Tristan's expression remains serious. I wonder what the nurse is thinking—what stories she's creating in her head about us. Maybe she's seen the articles, the photos, the speculation that's become the background noise of our lives.
Dr. Wiley is reviewing my chart when we enter the examination room. She looks up, her professional smile freezing momentarily as she takes in the full entourage.
"Well," she says, recovering quickly, "I see we have a full house today."
"I hope that's okay," I say, knowing that this is a lot. The examination room seems to shrink with all of us in it.
"Of course." Dr. Wiley extends her hand to each man in turn. "I've met the two of you before," she says to Alex and Julian. “But I don’t believe I’ve met you.” She looks at Tristan.
Tristan introduces himself and shakes her hand.
I climb unto the examine table and she helps me lie back, lifting my shirt to expose my growing belly. The men arrange themselves around the room—Alex closest to my head, Julian near my feet, Tristan standing off a little, giving the doctor space to work.
"How have you been feeling?" Dr. Wiley asks, her hands gently pressing against my abdomen.
"Good, mostly. Some back pain, especially at night. And I'm ravenous all the time."
"That's perfectly normal," she assures me, making notes in my chart. "Any nausea or dizziness?"
As I answer her routine questions, I notice Alex watching intently, mentally cataloging every response. Tristan has pulled out his phone and appears to be taking notes. Julian just watches me, a soft smile playing on his lips.
"We had a bit of a debate on the way over," Julian says when Dr. Wiley finishes her preliminary examination. "About whether we want to know the baby's sex."
Dr. Wiley raises an eyebrow. "And what did you decide?"
"I want to know," Alex says immediately.
"Me too," adds Tristan. "It would help with planning."
Julian nods in agreement. "I'm with them. Knowing would be better."
All three look at me expectantly, and I feel a small bubble of resistance rise in my chest. This is one thing I want to experience in the traditional way.
"As I said in the car, I'd rather not know," I say, meeting their gazes one by one. "I want to be surprised."
Alex's brow furrows. "But if we knew, we could prepare better. The nursery, the clothes?—"
