Behind me, car doors slam.
And then I’m not alone anymore.
Callaway’s arms come first—warm and quick—like his body moves on instinct, like holding me together is as natural as breathing.Monty is right behind him, not gentle, not hesitant.His hand closes around my arm and it’s firm, possessive, a wordless mine that doesn’t ask permission from anyone—least of all my fear.
My father hasn’t moved.
“What happened?”Monty’s voice drops low and dangerous, aimed straight at my dad.“Yes, Philippe.Vesper is pregnant and we’re a throuple but I don’t understand why you would make her cry.”
Silence.
My father blinks once, like his brain is buffering.
“You’re pregnant?”Dad asks, and my lungs hiccup and I laugh—this horrible little sound that comes out between a sob and a snort, because of course this is how it happens.Of course Monty just skates straight into the boards without checking who’s on the ice.
“What did I miss?”Monty asks, frowning, genuinely confused now, as if he didn’t just detonate my entire plan with one sentence.
I cry harder.I laugh harder.I hate myself and love them both in the same breath.
“I cried because he called me Vessy,” I manage, wiping at my face with the back of my hand like that’s going to fix anything.“I hadn’t told him, you fool.”
Cally makes a sound that could be a chuckle if I wasn’t actively humiliating myself in front of my father.His mouth presses to my temple.
Monty leans in close, his breath warm against my ear, voice rougher than usual.“Well,” he murmurs, not sorry, not even a little, “I guess I did it for you, baby.”
I elbow him weakly in the ribs, which would land harder if he weren’t basically a wall in a hoodie.
My father takes a step forward, slow and careful, as if he’s afraid of startling me more.
“Vessy,” he says again, softer now.“Are you ...pregnant?”
I nod, because talking feels impossible.
“Yeah,” I whisper, voice shaking as if my own body is betraying me.“And it’s complicated and I—” My breath breaks.I point with a trembling finger, as if it’s the most elegant way to lose my shit.“These two men ...”
I press my lips together, swallow hard, and look up at my dad.His eyes are wide, confused, afraid.
“I love them,” I say, because if I don’t say the truth now, I’ll choke on it later.“I love them, you know?”
Dad narrows his gaze as if he’s trying to decode a language he never learned.Then he looks at Cally.Looks at Monty.Looks back at me.
“You three are together?”he asks, cautious, as if the wrong word might crack the ground open.
I inhale too fast, lungs burning.My pulse goes loud in my ears.
Callaway’s arms tighten around me.His posture changes too, spine straightening, shoulders squaring.He doesn’t puff up.He just becomes ...present, protective in the way he always is when it matters.
“Yes,” Callaway says, voice steady in a way mine will never be today.“We love her.We love each other.And I hope you support this relationship.”
My father stares at him for a long beat.
Then he says, simply, “Okay.”
“And you’re not—” I almost trip over my own tongue.“You’re not mad?”
Dad’s mouth twitches, not quite a smile, not quite a grimace.
“Took you long enough,” he says to me.
