"Yes," she says, the single word hanging in the air between us, changing everything.
My heart thunders against my ribs as Julian's eyes find mine over his shoulder, a silent question in them. I give an almost imperceptible nod.
Julian doesn't hesitate. Her consent is all he needs to bridge the space between them. His hand slides to cup the back of her neck, fingers threading through her blonde hair as he leans in. I can’t look away from the sight of Julian's mouth meeting hers, gentle at first, then deeper as she responds, her hand coming up to rest against his chest.
I've seen Julian with countless women over the years. I've witnessed his charm in action, watched him seduce with practiced ease. But this is different. There's a tenderness in the way he touches Camille. He kisses her like she's precious, and the intimacy of it feels almost intrusive to watch.
Almost.
Julian breaks the kiss to glance over at me, his eyes dark with desire but questioning. He's putting on a show, yes, but he's also inviting me in, making sure I'm still on board with whatever this is becoming. When he turns back to Camille, his kisses grow more insistent. He shifts his body, angling them so I can see the flush spreading across her cheeks, the way her lips part for him.
I set my beer bottle aside on a nearby table, not trusting myself to keep hold of it. The room feels ten degrees warmer than it did a few minutes ago.
Julian's hand slides down Camille's side, skimming over her hip to her thigh. His thumb traces small circles there, and she makes a soft sound against his mouth that shoots straight to my groin. I swallow hard.
She's melting under Julian's touch, and he's watching me watch them, a silent invitation in his eyes.
I take a step forward, drawn by something I can't fight anymore. Don't want to fight.
But then Camille pulls back from Julian, her hand pressing firmly against his chest. "Wait," she says, breathless. "Wait, I—" She looks past him to me, her blue eyes wide and serious."Before this goes any further, there's something Tristan needs to know."
Julian sits back slightly, giving her space but keeping a hand on her knee.
"You should sit," she tells me, gesturing to the armchair adjacent to the couch.
I sink into it, leaning forward slightly. "What is it?"
She chews her bottom lip, a nervous habit I've noticed before. Her eyes dart to Julian, who gives her an encouraging nod.
"I'm pregnant," she finally says, her voice steady despite the vulnerability in her eyes. "And before we... before anything happens between us, you need to know that. It wouldn't be fair to let you go into this blindly."
I keep my expression neutral, watching her gather her courage.
"It's not Julian's," she continues, the words coming faster now. "It's... well, it's complicated. But I understand if that changes things for you. If you don't want?—"
"I figured as much," I interrupt gently. "And it doesn't matter to me."
Her eyes widen, lips parting in surprise. "You knew?"
I shrug, the gesture deliberately casual to ease the tension I see in her shoulders. "I put two and two together. The way Julian's been hovering around you like a mother hen. The way you excused yourself during our last meeting to be sick in the bathroom." I offer a small smile. "I'm observant, Camille."
"And you're really okay with it?" she asks, searching my face for any sign of hesitation or disgust.
"I said it doesn't matter to me, and I meant it." I hold her gaze, willing her to believe me. "Your pregnancy doesn't define you. It's part of your life right now, yes, but it's not all you are."
Something shifts in her expression—relief, yes, but something else too. A softening around her eyes, as if I've just lifted a weight she's been carrying.
"Thank you," she whispers, and there's a rawness in those two words that makes me want to pull her into my arms.
Julian's hand squeezes her knee gently but his eyes are on me.
"So where does this leave us?" Camille asks, looking between Julian and me. "The three of us, I mean. Is this just..." She trails off, unable to find the right words.
"It's whatever we want it to be," Julian answers, his usual playfulness tempered by sincerity. "Whatever feels right."
I nod in agreement. "No pressure. No expectations. We figure it out together."
Camille's eyes meet mine, and I see the question there, the need for reassurance that this isn't just about Julian—that I want this too, want her.
