Because Vesper has always been a runner.Not away from us exactly, but away from anything that feels too permanent.I shift in my chair, keeping my voice low so I don’t wake her.“I’m not staring.I’m ...watching.”
“For what?”
I glance at her again.At the ultrasound photos peeking out from her loose grip, bent at the corners.
“For the moment she wakes up and realizes we’re still around and this is happening,” I admit.“And tries to act like she’s fine.”
Monty’s gaze stays on Vesper.Something in his face tightens.“She won’t be fine.”
“No,” I agree softly.“She’ll be brave.Which isn’t the same thing.”
Silence stretches between us, full of all the things we’ve never handled well: feelings, loyalty, history.
Monty breaks it first, voice low.“You want this.”
It’s not a question.
I glance at him.“Don’t start.”
He gives a humorless huff.“I’m not.I’m stating a fact.”
“I made myself clear earlier,” I whisper.“I want this.”
Monty’s eyes narrow.“You want her.”
“Yes.”My chest aches.“And I want the baby safe.I want her to have a home.I want her to stop thinking she has to do everything alone just because she learned how—but also, I don’t want her to have to choose.”
Monty’s mouth tightens like he hates that answer.Like he hates the idea of waiting.Like he’d rather lock every door and call it protection.
I lean back, keeping my voice gentle, because this isn’t about winning.“What do you want, big guy?”
He looks at me like the question is an insult.
Then his eyes slide to Vesper again, and his voice comes out rawer than I expect.“I want to be in it.”
The words hang there.But I don’t know how to feel when he doesn’t say that he doesn’t want me involved ...or that he wants me.
The thing is, I fucking want everything.I want Vesper in my bed and laughing in my kitchen and leaning into me like she trusts I won’t leave.I want her to stop flinching when life offers her something good.I want to be the man she reaches for first.
And I want Monty, too, if I’m being honest in the way that makes me feel too exposed.
I want the three of us to stop circling each other like we’re still teenagers and terrified that loving each other could ruin our lives.
Monty’s voice drops.“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”I whisper.
“Don’t look at her like she’s yours alone,” he says, quiet and dangerous.
My throat goes dry.I glance at him.“Is that what you think I’m doing?”
He holds my gaze.“It’s what you want.”
I swallow hard and force my words.“I want her to be loved—by us.You and me.”
Monty’s eyes don’t soften, but something shifts.“She is.”
“But like I said, I want this to beus.Vesper, you, and me, Alberto,” I continue.“Us.The three as we once believed it could work.You have to stop acting like being in this means you lose control.”
