But this isn’t something to fix.
This is a life.
We still don’t know how this works—how three people become something more than just a painful memory.We don’t know if we’re brave enough to try.
Vesper lets out a breath that wobbles.Her chin trembles, and I see her fight it.She hates crying.Hates losing composure.She tries to joke it away?—
But her tears spill anyway.
Fuck.
I press a kiss to her temple, then Monty leans in and presses his forehead to hers, careful and reverent.He rests there for a heartbeat, like he needs to feel her.
I want to do the same.
I slide my hand to her cheek, thumb catching the tear before it can fall.It feels sacred, that small act.Like touching something meant to be protected.
“Hey,” I murmur, and my voice cracks around the sound.“You’re okay.”
She gives a wet, irritated laugh.“Am I?”
“Yeah,” I say, because sometimes certainty is built by saying it out loud.“You are.”
Jane moves the wand again—and that’s when my brain betrays me completely.
I should be benched for life.
No—locked somewhere far away from decent people.
Because Vesper is on that table, legs open, feet in stirrups, and my thoughts turn filthy in a way that feels wrong and overwhelming and impossible to stop.
I should not be thinking about her like this.Not here.Not now.Not ever.
But when the wand slides inside her, my body reacts without asking permission.Something low and demanding coils in my gut.Possessive.Wanting.My pulse roars so loud I miss half of what the doctor says.
I see it—how she opens, how her body responds, how she flexes around it.
And fuck.
I shouldn’t imagine replacing it.Shouldn’t picture my fingers instead, pushing in slowly, learning her again.Shouldn’t picture my cock sliding inside her, watching her gasp, watching her give in.
My hands curl tight at my sides, nails biting into skin as I try to stay still.
She’s going to be a mother.That should stop this.It should snap me back into place.
But ...it doesn’t.
All I can think about is wanting her.Wanting to take care of her.Wanting to make her remember exactly who wants her most.
I hate myself for it.
When Jane cleans the wand, all I can think isLucky bastard.
“I’ll step out so you can get dressed,” she says.
I stand too fast.“I’ll go too.”My voice comes out thin, needy.
Monty studies me, then kisses Vesper’s forehead.“I’m going with him,” he says.“In case he does something ...very ...Cally.”
