There's a half-packed duffel bag on the sofa. He was leaving.
The thought of it—Jamie disappearing into the night, raising our child alone, never knowing I'd have burned the world down to find them—makes something feral rise in my chest.
"You should come in," Jamie says. His voice is flat, careful. "Before someone sees you lurking in the hallway."
I step inside. The door closes behind me, and his scent hits me full force.
It's different now. Richer. Layered with something sweet and warm underneath the honey and citrus I remember. The pregnancy, I realize. I can smell it on him, that fundamentalchange in his chemistry, and my whole body responds with a possessiveness so primal it nearly brings me to my knees.
Mine. Both of them. Mine.
I force myself to stay still.
Jamie moves toward the sofa, lowering himself carefully around the swell of his belly. Every movement is deliberate, adjusted for a center of gravity that's shifted. He's wearing an oversized sweater that does nothing to hide how much his body has changed. His face is softer and there’s a fullness in his cheeks.
He's beautiful. He's always been beautiful, but now—
"Stop staring at me like that," Jamie says.
"Like what?"
"Likethat."
I've spent six months with nothing but memories, replaying every moment at the cabin until they wore thin. Now he's here, real and close and carrying our child, and I can't look away.
"I didn't know," I say again. The words feel inadequate, but I need him to understand. "Warren showed me a surveillance photo. That's how I found out. If I'd known—"
"What?" Jamie's laugh is bitter. "What would you have done differently?”
I stare at him and answer honestly. “I don’t know.”
The silence stretches between us. Jamie's hand moves to rest on his belly—an unconscious gesture, protective. I track the movement, transfixed.
"It's a girl," he says quietly.
Everything stops.
A girl. I'm having a daughter. The word reshapes itself in my mind, taking on weight and meaning. Not an abstract concept anymore. A person. A daughter. Our daughter.
"A girl," I repeat, and my voice comes out strange. Thick.
"I just found out." Jamie's watching me now, his expression unreadable.
“Were you ever going to tell me?”
“Not if I could help it.”
Something cold spikes at the pit of my stomach. I could have gone my whole life without knowing. “Why not?”
He takes a moment before of answering. "I was scared of what you'd do if you knew. What you might do now?"
"What I'd do?"
"Custody. Alpha rights. Your family's lawyers against—" He gestures at the cramped apartment, the half-packed bags. "Against this."
The realization hits me like ice water. He thought I'd take her from him.
"Jamie." I move toward him without thinking, then stop myself. "I would never—" I lower myself onto the armchair across from him, keeping the distance he seems to need. “I want to be part of the baby’s life, but I would never do that. I am an asshole in a lot of ways and I’ve got a lot wrong, but I won’t do that.”
