But not empty, not anymore.
There's a baby in there.
My baby.
Ourbaby.
The tears come without warning—hot and messy, streaming down my face faster than I can wipe them away.
I don't know if I'm crying from fear or joy or some overwhelming combination of both.
All I know is that everything has changed.
Everything is different now.
Everything.
I have to tell RJ.
But how? When?
We're in the middle of a war zone.
Solveig is out there, planning god knows what.
My father's club is on high alert.
RJ is already terrified of losing me—how is he going to react when he finds out there's even more at stake?
I need time to figure this out.
Need time to process, to plan, to find the right words and the right moment.
This isn't the kind of news you blurt out over breakfast.
This is the kind of news that changes everything—that deserves to be delivered with care, with intention, with love.
Tonight. I'll tell him tonight.
After everything calms down, after dinner, when it's just us in the basement.
I'll find a way to make it special, to make it mean something.
I hide the test in my pocket—I can't leave it here for someone else to find—and unlock the bathroom door.
One day.
I just need to get through one day.
RJ is awake when I get back to the basement, sitting on the edge of the bed with his phone in his hand.
He looks up when I come in, and his eyes immediately narrow with concern.
"You okay? You look pale."
"Fine. Just couldn't sleep." I cross the room and settle beside him, leaning into his warmth.
His arm comes around me automatically, and I breathe him in—soap and coffee and something distinctly him. "What are you doing?"
