"Checking in with the prospects on patrol. Everything's quiet."
"That's good, right?"
"Maybe." His fingers trace absent patterns on my shoulder. "Or maybe it just means she's waiting for the right moment."
I don't ask who "she" is.
We both know. Solveig.
The woman with her mother's face and almost thirty years of hatred.
We sit in silence for a moment, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on us.
I want to tell him.
The words are right there, sitting on my tongue.
I'm pregnant. We're having a baby. Everything is about to change.
But I can't.
Not like this, not in the middle of a crisis briefing, not with fear and exhaustion clouding both our minds.
He deserves better than that.
This baby deserves better than that.
"I was thinking," I say carefully, "maybe we could do something tonight. Just us. Something... normal."
He looks at me, curiosity softening the hard lines of his face. "What did you have in mind?"
"I don't know. Dinner in the basement. Candles, if I can find any." I trace patterns on his chest, suddenly nervous. My heart is beating too fast, my palms slightly sweaty. "I have something I want to talk to you about. Something important."
His body tenses slightly beneath my hand. "Good important or bad important?"
"Good. I think. I hope." I look up at him, and the worry in his expression makes my heart ache.
He's already carrying so much—the weight of protecting me, the fear of failing, the knowledge that danger is circling closer every day.
And I'm about to add to that weight.
"Nothing's wrong, RJ. I promise. I just... I need some time. Tonight. Can you give me that?"
He studies my face for a long moment, searching for something—a clue, a hint, some indication of what I'm hiding.
I try to keep my expression neutral, but I've never been good at hiding things from him.
He sees too much.
"You're nervous," he says quietly. "Your hands are shaking."
I look down and realize he's right.
My fingers are trembling against his chest.
"It's just..." I take a breath. "It's big. What I want to tell you. Life-changing, maybe. And I want to do it right. I want to give it the weight it deserves."
Something shifts in his expression.
