“I could read them to you in a dramatic voice,” he offers.“Make it fun.”
I lift a brow.“Inspirational sports documentary or psychological thriller?”
Monty doesn’t look up from his tablet, but his voice drops into that deep, movie-trailer tone that makes it sound like he’s narrating doom in a tux.“In a world where nothing will ever be the same ...one woman faces the ultimate test.Sleep deprivation.Cravings.And a tiny human who will one day demand boobs at two in the morning.”
Cally laughs and then he fucking high-fives Monty like they’re teammates in a sitcom instead of two men standing on either side of my heart.
I stare at them.“You two are insufferable.”
“I prefer ‘morally obligated to provide comedic relief in times of crisis,’” Monty says, finally glancing up.He picks up a magazine and turns a page with mock seriousness.“Okay.Groundbreaking parenting wisdom.Hmm.”His brows lift.“Apparently you should talk to the baby in utero to promote bonding.”
He tilts his head toward Cally.“That’s your job.From now on, you deliver Shakespeare monologues.Or we can brainwash the kid into obeying us forever.”
I blink.“That’s your takeaway?”
“Science doesn’t lie,” Monty says, completely straight-faced.“Imagine if their first words are, ‘Though she be but little, she is fierce.’”
A laugh slips out of me before I can stop it.
It’s small, but it slices through my fear like a crack of sunlight.
For a moment, my body unclenches.My shoulders drop a fraction.I hate that it takes them—these two disasters in human form—to make me feel like I can breathe.
Then the quiet sneaks back in behind my ribs, and the truth is still there, I’m pregnant.My life is changing.And the people watching me aren’t doing it out of curiosity.
“I still don’t get why you’re both so calm,” I whisper, because the calm is the scariest part.Calm feels like confidence, and confidence feels like they already decided something without me.
Cally lifts a brow, expression neutral but still annoyingly amused.“You want me to panic?Monty can get mad.That’s his specialty.”
“I want you to at least pretend this is life-altering.”
Monty tilts his head like he’s honestly considering my request.“Vesper,” he says, low and dramatic—as if he’s in one of those TV dramas where you don’t know if they’re being serious or sarcastic, “this is life-altering.”
Cally’s gaze shifts to me.“This will change me for the rest of my life,” he says, but I see the smirk on his lips.
These two are just jesting.Not the right time.“Too late.You both missed the opportunity.You already committed the crime of caring.”
Cally’s lips twitch, but he doesn’t argue.He just reaches into his pocket and holds out a stick of gum.
Of course he does.
It’s such a Cally thing—quietly considerate in a way that makes my chest ache.Like he knows my mouth tastes like nerves.Like he knows I need something to do with my hands so I don’t start picking at my nails.
I take it, staring at the wrapper.My fingers curl tight around it, and my eyes burn for reasons that make me furious.
I don’t cry.
Not often.
But lately, everything they do makes my eyes sting, and I’m starting to think my body is turning into a traitor in more ways than one.
“Vesper Lafontaine?”
I look up.
A nurse stands in the doorway, tablet in hand.“We’re ready for you.”
Cally is already on his feet.
