Victor pushed to his feet. “Home.”
Blake lifted his pint glass in a mock toast. “Atta boy. Go get your girl.”
Victor didn’t respond, because he’d already turned away, moving toward the exit with too much haste.
For the first time in weeks, things felt…clear.
Terrifying as hell.
But clear.
* * *
The house was quiet when Victor got home. Not empty or cold. Just…quiet.
And that difference hit him in the chest.
He found them in the living room—Pip was curled up against Belle’s side, sound asleep. Belle’s head was thrown back on the cushion, eyes closed, breathing heavily.
Victor leaned in the doorway, watching them.
This.
This was what he wanted.
To come home to find Belle sound asleep on the couch, their children dozing in her lap.
Pip shifted, the movement waking up Belle, who blinked several times, trying to focus her vision. Her gaze lifted after a moment and found him.
For a second, neither of them spoke. Something passed between them. Something uncertain, heavy, waiting. He’d been a jackass for putting this conversation off for so long.
“She wanted to wait for you,” Belle whispered. “Doesn’t look like either of us managed. Someone’s been keeping me up way past bedtime every night.”
He chuckled, walking across the room. “I’ll take her upstairs.”
Belle nodded, rising after Victor lifted Pip into his arms. His adorable little niece never stirred.
“We should all be able to sleep so soundly,” Belle mused.
Victor nodded in agreement. “Meet me on the patio?”
“Sure. I’ll grab us drinks while you tuck her in,” Belle offered.
Ten minutes later, Victor stepped outside. The night air was cool but not chilly, a soft breeze brushing over his skin. The humidity of the past few weeks had broken, thanks to an afternoon storm bringing them some much-needed relief from the thick, muggy heat that had characterized most of July and August.
Belle was sitting on one of the Adirondacks, her feet tucked beneath her butt. She was sipping wine and staring out across the yard. She glanced his direction when he slid the patio door closed behind him.
Victor was done playing it cool. Tired of holding back. Through waiting.
He walked over to her. Taking the wineglass from her hand, he set it on the side table before pulling her out of the chair and straight into his arms. He held her tightly, clinging to her as if she was his anchor, the only thing keeping him from floating away.
“I need to say something.”
His words must have come out too gruffly, because Belle pulled out of his embrace, staring at him, concern lacing her expression.
“Okay,” she said, somewhat hesitantly.
Victor sucked in a breath. “I love you.”
