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He realizes what he’s said, closes his eyes for one second, then opens them again. “That wasn’t the point.”

“No,” I say. “It really wasn’t.”

He drags a hand over his face. “Maggie, I’ve done the timeline.”

I laugh again, and this time there is actual anger in it. “Of course you have.”

“I’m not guessing.”

“Oh, that makes it better.”

He goes still. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Turn this into me being reckless when I’m trying to be honest.”

I blink at him. “Honest?”

“Yes.”

“Now?”

“Yes.”

I look away from him because I can’t stand the steadiness of his face right now, the way he thinks being calm makes this any better.

It doesn’t. It makes it worse. It makes it feel thought-through.

And that’s what scares me. Because I know what happened tonight. I know what Alester did to him in that room, what it looked like, what it felt like to watch Dalton’s face go cold and then disappear. I know he has history with Alester, old history, heavy history, the kind that doesn’t die.

And now, minutes after we’ve had sex and seconds after Alester has humiliated me in public, he’s telling me the baby might be his.

I don’t let myself finish that thought. If I do, I’ll say something crueler than I mean to.

“I can’t do this right now,” I say.

His voice softens, just slightly. “I know it’s a lot.”

“No.” I shake my head harder. “You don’t. You don’t get to act like this is some careful, respectful conversation when you are dropping this on me like—like⁠—”

“Like what?”

I look back at him. For one second I almost tell him exactly what I think. That this feels too close to the party. Too close to Alester. Too close to two men deciding things around me and calling it concern.

I don’t say that. I can’t. Not because it isn’t true, but because the minute I say it out loud, I know he’ll hear the worst version of it.

So I say the next truest thing instead. “I can’t believe you’re trying to pull me into something like this right now for your own ego.”

He flinches. Actually flinches.

Good, some ugly part of me thinks. Then I hate myself for that immediately.

His voice goes quiet. “You think that’s what this is.”

“I think you picked the exact moment I was most vulnerable.”

“That’s not why I said it.”