Page 79 of Vegas with my Ex’s Best Friends

She lifts her head. Her eyes are wet, shining. She looks at me for a long moment, searching for the old Andrew who left and the new one sitting here now, like she's waiting for something. An apology. A promise. Proof. I don't know which one she needs most—maybe all of them.

“I don't know how to feel yet,” she says.

Her voice doesn't shake. She's holding herself together so tightly it looks painful—shoulders locked, breath shallow, fingers digging into her own palms like she needs the pressure just to stay upright.

That look on her face. I put that there. I left her standing in a kitchen once with no answers to work from, holding herself together the same way. Now I'm asking her to trust me with something bigger than either of us ever planned.

But she doesn't look away. A single tear slips free and tracks down her cheek. I reach across the table and brush it away with my thumb. Her skin is familiar in a way that hits harder than the test result ever could. My hand stays there, thumb resting against her cheek, not moving, like if I move too fast she'll disappear again the way she did the morning after I left all those years ago.

But she stays. Right here, still looking at me.

Liam reaches across the table and taps two fingers lightly against the back of her hand. “We're in this together,” he says, softer now. “All four of us.”

Then his mouth tilts into that crooked grin again. “Besides,” he adds lightly, “you really think we'd let Andrew handle diapers alone? That's a public safety risk.”

Riley lets out a shaky laugh that sounds half sob. She wipes at her cheek with the heel of her hand, shaking her head once like she's trying to steady herself. But she doesn't look away from me. Not once.

Liam's grin widens just a fraction. “Kid's already got good taste. Chose the best woman any of us could ask for.”

Ethan shifts closer beside her. Liam stays leaned forward across the table. And me—still with my hand against her face. Three points around her. Not crowding. Holding.

The email is still open on my phone, the words glowing.

Our baby.

The kind of truth that doesn't get fixed with apologies. The Harrington dinner is in a few days, Connor is back in two weeks, and everything we've built sits under a truth he doesn't know yet. I don't know what breaks first when he walks through that door. But she's still looking at me.

And I'm staying right here.

Chapter twenty-nine

Chapter Twenty-Nine—Riley

The paternity results are still on Andrew's phone, screen dark, sitting in the middle of the kitchen table like a piece of furniture nobody's decided where to put yet.

I should text Jules. She’d lose her mind knowing it was Andrew’s. She’d also probably say she called it. That I was never going to make it out of his orbit. She might be right.

Andrew goes to shower. I stay at the table.

I'm still there when Ethan comes back in.

He doesn't ask how I'm doing or check my face for permission. He just sits down across from me, pulls out his phone, and scrolls for a second.

“I'm scheduling your next OB visit for Thursday.”

“Ethan---”

“You can pick the time.”

I watch him make the call. He gives my name, my date of birth, explains the situation in two sentences and zero unnecessary emotion. When he hangs up, he slides his phone across the table with a calendar notification already pulled up.

Ten-thirty Thursday morning.

“You didn't have to do that,” I say.

“Thursday works better than Friday. I have calls in the afternoon but the morning is clear.”

I look at him.