For a full minute, there's only the sound of traffic and my own heartbeat in my ears. Then Tristan turns in his seat, his blue eyes finding mine in the dim interior.
"What the hell happened back there?" His voice isn't angry, exactly, but there's an edge to it—concern wrapped in frustration.
I shake my head, looking down at my hands. "Nothing. Don't worry about it."
"Nothing doesn't send someone running like that," Tristan pushes, his gaze never wavering. "You were fine one minute, then white as a sheet the next."
Julian shifts beside me. "Camille." Just my name, but there's a plea in it.
I exhale shakily, turning to stare out the window at the passing streetlights. "I don't want to talk about it."
"Was it something I said?" Julian asks softly. "Or did? Because if I crossed a line?—"
"No," I cut in, my voice sharper than intended. "You didn't do anything wrong. Either of you. It's just..." I trail off, unsure how to continue without revealing the whole truth.
How do I explain that seeing Alexander with Fiona felt like having the floor drop out from under me? How do I admit that part of me still cares what he thinks, who he's with, whether he's moved on? It would sound like I'm still hung up on him—and maybe I am.
Tristan's jaw tightens. "Just what?"
"Leave it, Tris," Julian says quietly.
"No, I want to know what we're dealing with here," Tristan counters, his voice low but intense. "If something—or someone—upset her, I want to know how to make it right."
The protective edge in his voice makes my chest ache. These men care about me, are trying to take care of me, and I'm shutting them out because I'm afraid of what they'll think.
"It wasn't anyone's fault," I say finally. "I just... I got overwhelmed. There were a lot of people, and I'm tired, and—" It’s only half the truth but, right now, it’s all I can manage.
"And suddenly you needed to flee to the bathroom," Tristan finishes, skepticism clear in his tone.
Julian places a hand on my knee. "You don't have to explain if you don't want to," he says, throwing Tristan a warning look. "But we're here if you do."
The guilt intensifies. They deserve better than this, better than my evasions and half-truths. But the words stick in my throat: I saw Alexander. The father of my baby. The man who walked away without a word. And he was with Fiona, the bitch who's always made it clear she thinks I'm below her.
Instead, I say, "Can you just take me home? I need some time alone."
Julian's hand squeezes my knee once before retreating. "Of course."
Tristan looks like he wants to argue, his mouth opening and then closing again when Julian shakes his head almost imperceptibly. Another silent exchange passes between them, and Tristan turns back to face the front, his shoulders tense.
"Whatever you need," Julian says softly.
The rest of the ride passes in silence. I watch the familiar buildings slide by, trying to sort through the tangle of emotions inside me. Why did seeing Alexander affect me so strongly? Is itjust hormones amplifying everything? Or is it something deeper, some unresolved part of me that still clings to what might have been?
Alexander never loved me. I know that now. What we had was physical, transactional in a way—he took what he wanted, and I let him because I was caught up in the fantasy of him. Of being wanted by someone like him. It wasn't real.
What I have with Julian and Tristan feels different. There's care there, consideration. They see me—not just my body or what I can do for them, but me. They know about the baby and still want to be with me. That has to mean something.
So why am I sitting here, replaying two seconds of eye contact with Alexander? Why did seeing him with Fiona make me feel like I've been replaced, when I'm the one who's moved on to something better?
The car pulls up to my apartment building, and I feel both relief and reluctance. I need space, time to think, but I also hate the idea of being alone right now.
"Do you want us to come up?" Julian asks, reading my hesitation.
I shake my head. "No, I just need some sleep. I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"
His expression is worried but accepting. "Promise?"
"I promise." I lean over and kiss him lightly, then glance at Tristan in the front seat. His eyes meet mine, still guarded but softer now.
