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He smiled. It reached his eyes again, and he reached for the glass.
“I’m an expert bartender,” said Hudson, matching Julius’s smile with his own. “Step one: uncork bottle. Step two: pour.”
“I can’t argue with the results,” said Julius.
Both men stared at the fire for a little while, lost in their own thoughts.
“Her name is Quinn,” Hudson said, finally. Even though the day had been a flurry of ambulances, news cameras and hospitals, he’d thought of her every couple of moments. He’d only just seen her, but he’d found himself captivated, transported to a place where people weren’t screaming and he didn’t have a woman’s blood on his hands.
“Her name is Quinn Taylor,” Julius said, darkly.
Hudson raised his eyebrows, and Julius just nodded.
“She’s their daughter,” Julius said.
Hudson nodded. He understood what that meant. There was no way in hell that they were completing their triad with a member of the Taylor family. After all, they were the face of anti-shifter sentiment.
He wanted her. Julius wanted her. That much was obvious.
But sometimes, these things just didn’t work out, and this was one of those times.
“I’m sorry,” Julius said. He leaned forward, toward the fire, his deep brown eyes gleaming in its reflected light. “If I hadn’t pursued this triad marriage thing, maybe it could have gone differently for us.”
He meant children, Hudson knew. He could see the way his mate looked at all the cubs running around Granite Valley, and it was a look that made him feel oddly warm and squishy inside.
Hudson leaned over and took Julius’s hand in his own, lacing their fingers together firmly.
“I’m not sorry about a damn thing,” he growled. “It’s a miracle I got you at all. We both know you saved me.”
Hudson kissed the back of Julius’s hand, and Julius smiled.
“Who saved who?” he said.
“They say that about adopted dogs, you know,” Hudson teased.
“You do turn into a bear sometimes,” Julius said.
“It’s very different.”
Julius drained his glass and stretched his feet out onto their antique coffee table, relaxing back onto the leather couch.
“I just want this trial over,” he said. “I just wanted people to get married the way they want.”
“They won’t stop,” Hudson said. “They’ll probably start coming and protesting maternity wards.” He swirled the last few sips of whiskey around his glass.
“I hope not,” said Julius.
* * *
The next morning,Julius was up first. Hudson wasn’t even sure if he’d slept. The other man had been in bed when he’d fallen asleep, but when he’d woken up at four in the morning, Julius had been staring out a window into the back yard.
“I made coffee,” Julius said. He pointed to their massive French press, still mostly full. “It’s only about twenty minutes old, so get it while it’s hot.”
Hudson recognized that coffee maker as the emergency coffee maker, for when Julius needed extra caffeine. The other man was already pacing around the kitchen, his hair still mussed from his pillow, as he talked to himself about what he needed to do that day.
“Okay,” he said, pouring himself another cup. “I need to draft a statement about yesterday. I need to go see Noah in the hospital, and I need to send him flowers, and I need to contact Judge Coso about delaying the trial—”
“No,” said Hudson. He put one hand on the other man’s shoulder. “You’re taking the morning off.”
