I lean in and kiss her forehead, because I need to give her one second of soft before I hand her the truth.
“Not a bunker,” I murmur.“Just blackout curtains.”
She squints at me, eyes still half-lidded, trying to focus in the dark.“Okay, good.Because I’m already growing a whole human and I really don’t have room in my life for a house that’s committed to full-time gloom.”
Monty’s hand slides to her hip, firm and protective.“Vesper,” he says quietly.
“Okay,” she says, and the softness is gone.She sits up slowly, pulling my shirt tighter around her like it’s armor.“What happened?”
I swallow.I look at her face in the dark and I hate that she has to hear this at all.
“My parents called,” I say, and I keep my voice gentle even as my stomach flips again.
“What did they do?”she asks.
Notwhat do they want?Notwhat did they say?
What did they do?
“They hired someone.They called it risk management.”My mouth twists.“Same thing, different packaging.”
Monty’s hands curl at his sides.His fingers flex like he’s about to grab something.
I keep going before he can interrupt, because if I stop, he’ll fill the silence with images that make him violent.
Monty opens the curtains, Vesper sits up straight in the bed and listens to what I have to say.Everything, except the whole “take care of the baby” bit because that’s not something you tell your partner.Our baby is loved and protected, so fuck my parents.
Once I finish, there’s silence.We look at each other and then, “So you’re saying we either come out ...or they drag us out, publicly?”Monty breaks the silence.
I nod in confirmation.
His gaze moves from me to Vesper, not frantic—never frantic—but alert, calculating, already mapping threats and exits and contingencies like that’s how he keeps breathing.
Then he looks at her fully, and something in his expression softens into a demand that’s also devotion.
“What do you want, baby?”
Vesper blinks, caught off guard by being handed the steering wheel.
“Me?”she says, frowning like the question is a trick.Like she’s waiting for someone to yank the rug out from under her the second she admits she wants anything at all.
“Yeah.”I keep my voice gentle, because I can feel how fragile the room is—how close she is to turning this into a joke and climbing back behind it.“You.What do you want?Because we need a plan before my parents decide our lives are their next press release.”
Vesper’s mouth twists, that sarcastic sunshine grin fighting its way to the surface even though her eyes look raw.
“This affects you too, Ves,” Monty says, and he shifts closer—not crowding, not hovering.Just there.A presence.A wall at her back.“Your career.This new stage of your life is?—”
“My boss knows about us,” she cuts in, and the way she says it is almost smug, as if she’s holding up a tiny shield that says I’m not alone.“They’re discreet, very supportive but also ...he’s in a relationship like ours.”
Monty’s brows pull together, an almost imperceptible reaction—curiosity and probably disbelief.The man is famous.His career as a musician and a producer is unprecedented.Obviously, he knows how to do it.Then I remember his son-in-law, who is also in a poly relationship.
Okay, so she’ll be fine career-wise, and maybe we could try to see if they can give us some pointers.Teach us how to keep our lives without losing ourselves.
Vesper keeps going.“That’s why working with my therapist has been ...helpful.”
She presses her lips together, then blows out a breath like she’s about to jump into cold water.“I feel like I have to go to Juniper Ridge.Tell my dad.Maybe call my brothers.”
Monty is the one who speaks first.“Are you sure?”
