Page 59 of Worth the Fight

“Are you trying to cop a feel at their party?”

I smile down at her, glancing up at the small groups of family and friends that came together to celebrate Raymond and Ronaldo bringing their baby home.

I sneak a quick kiss to her lips, pulling away and trying to smile, but my gaze moves forward again, and I catch a glimpse of the picture in front of me.

“When was this taken, Mags?”

Her gaze follows mine, and when she catches the picture on the mantle, her smile droops the slightest amount, but I catch it.

“Around Christmas, after our Sugar Plum Fairy performance. A few years back, I think.”

Ronaldo silently excuses himself, and I tighten my hold, needing to ground myself to her. “Did I do that to you?” I whisper the words, feeling my bottom lip wobble with the question.

She steps out of my hold to stand in front of me, her body blocking my view of the mantle. Her palm comes up to rest on my cheek, forcing my gaze away from the photo and down to her. “Everyone handles grief differently, Lukas. You masked your suffering with drinking. You were angry, and I was sad.” She twists over her shoulder to look at the picture again. “We both know I was sad. I wasn’t purposely eating less or starving myself.” She turns back to me with her head tilted gently to the side. “But apparently, when I experience grief, my appetite disappears.”

I think back to my medical training and the little knowledge I have of how malnutrition affects the bones. How long had she gone without an appetite? Was she eating enough to meet her needs? When I was deployed, she was likely losing weight like this, not able to take care of herself, and I had no idea. She was underweight, likely lost some muscle. Is that what led to her fracture?

A soft hand lands on my cheek, and Magnolia slides her hand down my jaw to grip my chin. “You’re spiraling, I can tell.” Her eyes dart over my face, and I try to force a smile. “You look constipated when you do that.” She grins, her hand shaking my chin once. “What are you thinking?”

Just as I open my mouth to try to fumble over my words, a hand reaches out to grasp her elbow. She turns, smiling at Raymond first, then her gaze moves to his sleepy daughter held protectively in his arms. “Wondering if you would want to hold Sylvia for me? I’d like to chat with Lukas for a minute. Alone.”

Her hands, which had been reaching out to scoop up his baby, freeze mid-air. She cocks a brow at him, and a silent conversation passes back and forth.

“I’ll be nice,” he adds, and Magnolia looks over at me for approval.

We have our own silent conversation, and once she sees that I’m fine with it, she turns back toward Raymond, first pulling the blanket from his shoulder, then they carefully transfer Sylvia.

Mags’s face warms the moment Sylvia is in her arms, and I soak in the moment between them. Her longing gaze, the protective hold, how she looks so natural holding a baby against her chest. And dammit, I want to see that more. I want to take a trip here with Ivy and watch the two of them get to know each other. Watch Mags fall in love with the only other woman who holds a piece of my heart.

“After you.” I gesture to Raymond, setting my half-drank cup of cider on a side table.

“Good luck,” Mags whispers, leaning forward to press a kiss on my cheek.

Raymond leads me through their home, nodding and smiling to a few of the other guests as we make our way to the balcony that sits off the living room.

He opens the French doors, stepping into the cool night air, and I follow suit. Even though it’s early fall, there’s an unusual chill in the air, one that has my breath curling out like smoke.

I know he probably doesn’t like me very much, and I haven’t given him very many reasons to. He’s Magnolia’s best friend, and she’s known him for almost her entire adult life. He was one of the first people she met when she moved to Paris.

At one point, he may have called me a friend, but after witnessing the highs and lows of our relationship, seeing what that did to Mags, I’m sure his feelings toward me have changed.

“Congrats again on Sylvia,” I tell him. “I hope fatherhood is treating you well.”

When Mags sent me her schedule, there weren’t long stretches of time that truly lined up with both of our schedules. I wanted to be able to come out here and spend an entire week together. But the more I planned, the harder I realized it would be for me to leave Ivy. I haven’t been away from her for more than a night, ten hours, maybe. And seeing Raymond and Ronaldo holding Sylvia has a longing unfurling in my chest. Even though I’m happy to be here with Mags, there’s a part of me that wishes I was back home, Mags with me, of course, the both of us getting to spend the night with Ivy.

“I’m blessed beyond belief,” he says, leaning over to rest his forearms on the balcony railing. “It’s good to see you again.”

“Is it?” I tease, and he chuckles.

“Well, depends on your intentions with Magnolia.”

I smile at that, his tone sounding more and more like a protective father.

“My intentions are what they’ve always been. I love her.”

His eyes dart to the side at that.

“I’ve always loved her, even when I didn’t show it and wasn’t treating her the way she deserved. But I love her, Raymond, and I know you probably don’t like me very much right now, but I’m working on it.” I’m a better version of myself. Hell, in some ways, I think I’m a better version of myself now than I was when Mags and I were at our best.