Alec congratulated her like she’d just won a Nobel Peace Prize.
I felt lighter afterwards.
???
I had to carry her to the bath.
She didn’t protest—didn’t cling either. Just went loose against me, pliant in a way that made me more alert, not less. Rowan and Alec took her from my arms as I lowered her in, careful between them as steam curled up around her skin.
For a second, I thought I was going to have to call time out.
Both of them wanted her on their lap in the jacuzzi, talking over each other like children arguing about turns. I stayed where I was, arms folded, watching her like a hawk.
But she didn’t tease it.
Didn’t lean into one more than the other.
Didn’t play it.
She just let them bicker.
Eventually they worked it out—grudgingly—and Rowan pulled her onto his lap. She didn’t look around or smile at the victory. She simply rested her head against his chest, cheek pressed to warm skin, eyes half-lidded.
Quiet.
Rowan’s arm curled around her waist as if by instinct while we talked about work—deadlines, logistics, things that didn’t belong in this room but grounded it anyway. She stayed still through all of it, breathing slow, not listening, not pretending to.
When she moved to Alec, it was the same.
He cradled her in his lap, broader somehow, more deliberate. His fingers toyed with the ends of her hair, slow and absent, before dipping between her thighs under the water—claiming to wash her. She didn’t react. No coyness. No chatter. None of the performative softness most women reached for in moments like this.
Her head rested on his shoulder, one hand splayed on his chest as if she’d fallen there by accident.
Used up.
Spent.
Done.
“Ella.”
I said her name loud enough to cut through the low conversation and the constant churn of bubbles.
Her eyes flickered open.
Alert—but only just. Fatigue sat heavy in them, the kind that dulled everything except instinct.
“Eat and nap,” I told her. No softness. No room for negotiation.
She nodded once.
Then her eyes closed again, head settling back into Alec’s shoulder as if the decision had already been made.
Chapter 22
Ella
Like a dream, I floated into a new routine. Days blurred into weeks without my noticing. I trained my brain to believe I was in a house share with benefits—something casual, temporary, survivable.
