When I finally end the call, I sit there in the kitchen, Pancake licking at my toes, my phone pressed to my chest. My heart is heavy and full and terrified all at once.
“You okay, baby?”
I look up and Simon is there, his glasses slightly crooked, his eyes soft but sharp in the way they always are when he’s dissecting me. He already knows the answer before I can speak, but I still shake my head.
My throat burns. The tears come again, even though I thought I was empty.
He doesn’t hesitate. He crosses the room, slides his arms around me, and pulls me against his chest. The world feels smaller there, the edges of everything blurring until all that’s left is the rhythm of his breathing and the quiet authority of his presence. I bury my face in his shirt, the cotton dampening as the last of my sobs wrack through me. His hand strokes my hair, slow and patient, like he has all the time in the world.
“You’re going to be okay,” he murmurs when I finally quiet, his thumb brushing under my eyes, wiping away the wetness. His voice is calm, certain, as though he’s stating a fact instead of offering comfort. “We’re going to be okay.”
I nod, my body loosening against him. For a long moment, I sit there, held together by Simon’s arms. Then footsteps creak on the stairs, and I look up to see Beau and Levi making their way down, both still rumpled from sleep. Beau’s hair is a mess, his shirt clinging unevenly across his chest, while Levi is already pulling his hoodie over his head, his jaw shadowed and sharp.
“Morning, sweetheart,” Beau says softly, leaning down to press a kiss to my forehead. Levi follows, his lips brushing the same spot like they’re marking me in unison, quiet claims that mean more than words.
Then Beau glances around the room, his mouth quirking.
“The café looks good. Better than good, actually. Jude and Ryker did a hell of a job finishing everything.”
I sniff, swiping at my face. “Yeah. It feels real now.”
Levi tilts his head, studying me. “Are you going to keep the name?”
I pause. The name has been my grandmother’s for so long, etched into every design, every late-night plan, every penny I scraped together.
“Yes,” I say finally. “Probably. It’s hers. She built it. I want the town to know it’s still hers.”
He nods, approval flickering across his face like he respects the claim. “Good.”
The kitchen fills with clinking and movement as Beau starts pulling out pans, muttering about bacon and eggs while Levi hunts down coffee. Simon squeezes my hand once more before letting me go, then he joins them, opening the fridge with that efficient precision of his.
I linger at the counter, watching them move together, three men who are nothing alike but who somehow function as if they’ve always belonged in the same kitchen.
Beau is humming under his breath as he flips pancakes, Levi is leaning against the counter while the coffee brews, and Simon is sliding fruit into a bowl. It’s so domestic, so ordinary, and yet it feels extraordinary to me.
By the time plates are on the table, the room smells like home—coffee rich and dark, bacon sizzling, syrup warm and sweet.
I tuck myself between Beau and Simon, and Levi takes the seat across from me, his eyes catching mine as if he needs to anchor me with that steady blue gaze.
The food is good, but it’s the company that fills me up. Every bite tastes like a promise, every laugh feels like a vow. For the first time since the pregnancy tests, since the storm of fear and what-ifs, I feel the whisper of peace.
Halfway through the meal, Beau sets down his fork, leans back, and glances between the three of us. His tone is casual, but there’s weight behind the words.
“So… we should probably talk about the future.”
My fork freezes over my plate. “The future?”
He grins at me, playful but serious under the surface. “Yeah, baby. Like, when the little one gets here, are we still going to cram into your apartment above the café? Or are we going to be smart and find a place that fits all of us?”
My heart stumbles. “You mean a house?”
Levi leans forward, arms crossed over the table, his expression calm but confident. “Exactly that. A house. With a yard. Maybe near the woods, so the kid grows up knowing what it feels like to run free. Space for Pancake to chase squirrels without ending up in the neighbor’s garden.”
Simon’s lips twitch as though he’s already considered this a dozen times in his mind. “And space for all of us to breathe. For the baby to have a nursery. For you to have a kitchen that isn’t half the size of a closet.”
I blink at them, my chest pulling tight. “You’re serious?”
Beau reaches for my hand across the table, his palm warm and rough. “Of course we’re serious. We’re not going anywhere. You’re ours. The baby is ours. And I’m not letting my Omega raise our child in a place that doesn’t feel like forever.”
