Harvey replies, steady in the way he always is, the way I rely on, “We won’t have to.Trust me, okay?I always have your back.”
The call ends.
The SUV keeps moving.
Monty doesn’t look away from me.“What’s going on with Ves?”
I shrug.“Not sure if she wants to leave because my family is on her ass or because ...who the fuck knows.”I sigh with frustration.
His gaze holds mine, intense and unreadable.“If someone is watching her,” he says, “they’re not leaving with all their teeth.”
That’s Monty: solitary, ruthless, demanding the world pay for its choices.
But his shoulder brushes mine for half a second and I feel it like an electric line under skin.
“We’re not letting them hurt you—or her,” he assures me.
I glance at him, and for a beat, we’re just two people who love the same woman and are terrified we’re about to lose her.
ChapterTwenty-Four
Vesper
Alberto and Callaway arrive while I’m perched on one of the kitchen barstools.Benji’s ginger-orange juice sits in front of me.I’m halfway through a snack I didn’t ask for but am eating anyway because my body apparently has opinions now and it doesn’t consult me.
Also, Benji swears that if I eat small meals during the day I won’t have morning sickness.So far, I haven’t had any new discussions with the porcelain gods.Maybe he’s right.I guess he is the food expert, being a chef and all.
Cally takes one look at me and his mouth twitches, like he’s trying not to grin and failing because there’s an edge behind those beautiful eyes.
“You look less ...”He gestures vaguely at my face, like he’s searching for the right insult that won’t make me cry.“Flustered?”
“It’s probably all the juices Benji’s been forcing on me,” I say, lifting the cup.“I’m basically one sip away from turning into a juiced-up rabbit.”
Cally’s laugh comes easy.
“What did the doctor say?”he asks at the exact same time Monty says, “Okay, what’s the plan?Are we keeping the baby?”
I stare at him.
This isn’t a polite stare.This is my brain slamming into a wall at full speed and leaving a dent.This is my nervous system pulling the plug.Full-body shutdown.The world quieting except for one sentence that now lives under my skin.
Are we keeping the baby?
Not, areyou.
We.
Monty saidwelike it’s a fact.As if it has been decided and arranged.Like I’m not standing here with a life-altering truth in my uterus and two men in my line of sight who could wreck me without trying.
My mouth opens.Nothing comes out.
Because the answer is immediate.Violent in its certainty.
Yes.Of course I am.
It doesn’t matter that I didn’t plan for this.It doesn’t matter that I don’t have a five-year roadmap, or even a five-minute one.It doesn’t matter that I’m a walking disaster who once killed a cactus because I “forgot” it needed water and not, like, emotional support.
This baby is mine.
