“Why do you think?” River stomped back to his own seat. “He lives there, I live here, and he knew I was in love with Rubi.”
“You broke his heart?”
“Fuck, no. It just wasn’t meant to be.”
My brother went back to grinning at his phone. I squirmed through more Braxton Hicks and drank enough pop to wake up my little beans. They kicked the crap out of me in return, but I didn’t mind. It meant they were alive, and I gladly took every prod and thud, even if it felt like my ribs were becoming as cracked and dusty as Cam’s.
Six days.
That was how long we had left. Six days and nights of them safe inside me before they cut me open and?—
A hand skated over mine.
Saint. The touch brief as he passed through the room, there and gone before I even saw him.Have faith.
River’s voice came next. “You know it looks like you’re marrying Alexei with that rock on your finger, don’t you?”
I blinked, irrationally annoyed he’d ripped me from the horror show my imagination liked to spring on me when I wasn’t paying attention enough to shut it down. Irrational because he’d become unnervingly good at it, even though I knew he was distracted by some mischief I’d yet to figure out.
He’s got that look.
And... he was right. The ludicrous black diamond Alexei had bought me fit like a dream on my ring finger. So I’d left it there, glinting darkly against my pale skin, under the assumption my hands would soon follow the path of my ankles and pop that bitch right off. “You speak like I care how anythinglooks. But even if I did, Alexei’s a catch. I tell Cam he’s punching all the time.”
“You don’t tell Saint?”
“Eh. Would you?”
River shrugged. “They’re as lucky to have him as he is to have them.”
“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said.”
“No, it isn’t.”
All right. Probably not. These days, River was rolling through life as an absolute sweetheart and I lived to see it. To watch my babies grow up with him for their uncle when I’d been so sure he wouldn’t see thirty.
A scrunched ball of wrapping paper hit my cheek. “What are you crying about?”
I glared and hurled the paper right back. “I’m not fucking crying.”
River snorted. “Yeah, you are.”
“Shut your face.” I flipped him the bird and crowbarred myself from the sofa, needing a wee as much as I wanted to throat-punch him. “Or I’ll tell Rubi what you’re up to.”
“You don’t know what I’m up to.”
So he was up to something. If I hadn’t been sure before, I was now.
I stopped in the doorway and glanced back at my brother, scrutinising him for signs of stress, or worse. I’d been so caught up in my own life I hadn’t had time for other people—for my family—recently. But surely I’d have noticed if River had been struggling enough to relapse?
He’s not struggling. Look at him.
River was still sprawled in the armchair, hair loose around his face as he went back to his phone, hyper-focused on whatever had been making his eyes shine all day. He wore ripped jeans and a T-shirt that had once been Cam’s, his face filled out and colour in his cheeks. At dinner, I’d watched him demolish a plate of food almost as big as mine, and he hadn’t done that since we were kids.
He’s fine.
More than that, like Folk who’d also eaten more than me, he was happy. And Ireallyneeded that wee.
I waddled myself to the blessed downstairs bathroom, the full-to-bursting sensation in my pelvis enough to make me wince with each step and forever thankful for the giant shirts I’d stolen from Logan. In fact, the mere thought of my brother-in-law made me smile. Logan was as kind as Locke, but shyer.Sweeter, if such a thing was possible. I was addicted to his earnest smile and bolstering hugs, and the only imperfect thing about this day was that he wasn’t here with Remy and his beautiful boys.
