I shake my head. “God no. I don’t have the energy.”
That earns me a quiet laugh.
“I’m not asking for promises,” I add. “Or labels tomorrow. Or some big announcement. Just… a chance. Deliberately. With our eyes open.”
She looks back at me then. Really looks.
“And if I say yes,” she says, “we do this properly?”
“Yes,” I say. “At the pace we need. With space to be scared. And without pretending we’re not already invested.”
There’s a long beat.
Then she nods.
“Okay,” she says softly. “We can try.”
Something in my chest loosens. Not relief exactly. More like alignment.
I smile. “Good.”
She exhales again, tension easing from her shoulders. “Right. Now breakfast is really happening.”
I grin. “Excellent follow-through.”
We get out of bed together and it feels inevitable rather than dramatic. And for some reason it means more.
36
Lust Shouts. Love Stays.
Christa
The Ritz has opinionsabout me the moment I walk through the doors.
They’re silent opinions, obviously. Judgement by chandelier. Raised eyebrows in marble. A faint, collective sniff that says you are eitherVery ImportantorHave Wandered In By Mistake.
I pause just inside the entrance, one hand instinctively drifting to my stomach. Six months pregnant means I am very aware of my body at all times. The curve under my dress. The weight of it. The way it announces me before I’ve said a word.
I am many things right now. Posh-adjacent is not one of them.
And then Geoff links his fingers with mine.
It’s the smallest movement and the loudest message.
Together.
I feel it ripple instantly. Ivy notices it first. Her eyebrows lift for half a second before she grins into her scarf like she’s just won something. Miranda notices next, her mouth softening as she takes it in without comment. Even Theo, who pretends to be oblivious to anything emotional, glances over and then pointedly looks away like he’s respecting a boundary.
No announcement. No speech. Just fingers laced.
Geoff squeezes once, reassuring.
“You alright?” he murmurs.
“I feel like the building is about to ask me my annual income,” I whisper back.
“You’re doing great,” he says, completely unbothered. “And, if it tries anything, I’ll distract it with charm.”
