He kissed my forehead. “I know.”
His hand kept moving on my bump. Slow. Soothing.
A kick answered. Strong.
He smiled against my hair. “See? He agrees.”
I laughed. Soft. Tired.
We didn’t speak after that.
Just held each other.
Moonlight shifted across the sheets.
His breathing evened out first.
Mine took longer.
Because even in the quiet, his arm around me, hand protective on our child, I still felt the crack in him.
Small.
Real.
Terrifying.
Because if he could feel this much for the baby…
What happened when he finally felt it for me?
And what if he didn’t?
Chapter 25
Hadley
Morning light slipped through the sheer curtains like spilled milk. I woke to the smell of pineapple and ginger. Cal was already up, shirtless, hair messy from sleep, balancing a tray with fruit, toast, and a steaming mug of ginger tea.
He set it on the nightstand. “Figured you’d want something light.”
I pushed myself up on my elbows. The sheet slipped to my waist. “You made breakfast?”
“Staff made it. I carried it.” He sat on the edge of the bed. “Same thing.”
I smiled despite myself. “Still counts.”
He handed me the mug. Warmth seeped into my palms. I sipped. Sharp, soothing.
He watched me drink. Then, awkward, almost shy, he reached over and rested his hand on my bump.
“Morning, kid,” he murmured.
A small kick answered. His mouth curved. Not a full smile. Something softer.
“Still kicking like he’s training for the pros.”
I laughed quietly. “You keep saying he.”
