I keep the door cracked open. “I appreciate knowing LA is an option down the line.”
I hesitate, hoping I haven’t overstepped. “But I already called Callum today.”
I didn’t tell the Echo Valley chief of police I was pregnant—just that I needed a favor. In a small town, sometimes that’s enough. “He said he’d sort it. Just say the word.”
His eyes flicker with surprise. “You’re serious?”
“Yeah.” I watch his face. “It’s the right call, isn’t it?”
He nods slowly, but his expression doesn’t ease the way I expect it to.
He hesitates, like he doesn’t want to get this wrong. “I don’t want you making choices now that you wake up resenting later.” His jaw tightens. “I don’t want you feeling boxed in.”
I tilt my head. “Why would I feel boxed in? I love Echo Valley, and my best friend is there. The Mendezes have taken me in like one of their own. It’s small, but I’m not making an enormous sacrifice…”
“I know…” His mouth tightens into a line of worry I’ve never seen before. “I just don’t want you waiting until you’re miserable to tell me it’s not enough. It doesn’t have to be.”
No one has ever talked about my happiness like that—like it’s something fragile, something worth protecting before it breaks.
I reassure him. I don’t like him thinking this way or worrying about me.
“I know I decided to leave for the bright lights, but priorities shift. We can talk about it again when the baby is born,” I say lightly, even as something in my chest tightens, wondering what has his bright blue eyes swimming with concern. “As long as we’re open and honest, we can seewhere the world takes us both. And figure out what’s best for the baby.”
He nods, accepting that without pushing.
“I’ll aim to move before my next appointment so my OB-GYN is up there and…a place to live.” This part I hadn’t really worked out. “I could move in with Lara again…” I know she’d never say no, and we loved that little apartment above the bookstore we used to live in together.
Anton lets out a short breath that sounds like a laugh. “You know Gabriel lives there, right?”
Then, like it’s the most obvious solution in the world, he adds, “Come stay with me at the ranch.
It’s comforting in a way that makes my chest go light.
“Really?” I hesitate. “Maybe we shouldn’t…live together.”
“Why not?” He smirks, choosing ease instead of pressure. “We pinky-promised we’d always be good.”
He leans back, arms crossing over his chest in that nonchalant way that’s ridiculously sexy. “You think we can’t be under the same roof and still be friends?”
Then he adds, teasing, “I mean, you did throw yourself at me once.”
I reach across the table and smack his arm. “Stop.”
God, I appreciate the humor right now. That we can still joke.
“Seriously,” he says. “We’ve always been great friends.” He holds my gaze. “That’s a solid foundation to raise a kid on.”
Friends.
That’s exactly what I was thinking. What I’ve been telling myself for weeks. Friendship is the thing that makes all of this possible.
What I don’t quite understand yet is why it sounds so settled coming from him.
Because sitting across from him now, with his eyes on mine and his hand resting easy on the table between us,Ican still feel the pull.
Maybe he really did get it out of his system. And I’m sure the longer we’re friends, seeing each other all normal and ordinary in the morning, I’ll get it out of mine, too.
I nod because the logic is right even if my body hasn’t quite caught up. “Okay,” I say. “I’ll live with you…until we figure out the next step.”
