I told her everything. The test. The doctor. The conversation in the bathroom. The kiss. How I’d put my hand on Hadley’s stomach and said I wanted to be there.
She listened. Didn’t interrupt. Just held me.
When I finished, she pulled back. Looked up at me.
“You can’t be with her,” she said. Soft. Firm. “Not really. She’s not us. She doesn’t understand.”
“I know.”
“You need to protect yourself. Draw up a prenup. Ironclad. After the divorce, after the baby, she doesn’t get half your money. She doesn’t get to bleed you dry.”
I nodded slow. “Yeah.”
She took my hand. Led me to the bed.
We lay down. Her head on my chest. My arm around her. Familiar. Easy.
She kissed my jaw. Then my mouth.
I didn’t stop her.
I kissed back. Harder. Desperate.
Wanted to erase Hadley from my head. The way she’d looked at me in the bathroom. The way she’d trusted me when I didn’t deserve it.
Sydney’s hands went under my shirt. Mine went under hers.
We’d done this before. All of us. Drunk nights. One time—years ago—blackout drunk, all four of us with her at once. No jealousy. No shame. Just family. Just us.
This felt like that.
And this time I didn’t pull back.
I let her climb on top. Let her take my shirt off. Let her hands roam. Let her mouth move down my chest.
I flipped her under me. Kissed her neck. Her collarbone. Lower.
She moaned my name. I didn’t think about Hadley. Didn’t think about the baby. Didn’t think about tomorrow.
I just fucked her.
Hard. Fast. Like I could outrun everything.
When it was over we lay there tangled. Sweaty. Breathing heavy.
She curled against me. Kissed my shoulder.
“You’ll always come back to me,” she whispered.
I didn’t answer.
I stared at the ceiling. Hand on her back. Mind blank.
Hadley didn’t matter right now.
The baby didn’t matter right now.
None of it did.
