Chapter Twenty-Three #2
“You’re right,” he says, his voice thoughtful. “But you’re forgetting something. You like being with us. You like this little band of brothers you’ve got here.” His lips curve into a teasing smirk as if daring me to admit it out loud.
I feel a smile tug at the corner of my mouth, but I brush past his words with a playful deflection, unwilling to indulge his taunt.
“Well… if we’re all in agreement about being a family unit, we should talk to Leila about it,” I say, steering the conversation back on course.
Henry’s smirk fades into something more serious, though I can see the humor in his eyes acknowledging my dodge. Still, he nods in agreement.
“You’re right,” he says, his teasing replaced by genuine consideration.
“I’ll go talk to her,” I offer, already moving toward Leila’s room.
The weight of the conversation sits with me as I walk, but it’s not a burden.
It feels like a step forward, a step toward something more real than any of us had anticipated when all this began.
We’re not just three men tied together by circumstance anymore.
We’re something more now. And it’s time to see if Leila feels the same.
As I step into the room, there’s a brief moment of relief, a peacefulness that comes with knowing that I can enter without hesitation, without the door being closed to me as it once was.
The memory of those locked days lingers briefly in my mind, a ghost of the past. But now, there’s a new tension in the air, something far more immediate.
Leila is pacing, her breath quick and shallow, her movements restless.
I cross the room swiftly and place my hands gently on her shoulders, stilling her. Her body feels fragile beneath my touch, and when I look at her eyes, they’re clouded, unfocused, as if she’s struggling to tether herself to the present.
“Hey… are you okay?” I ask, my voice soft, trying to anchor her.
Her gaze flickers, never quite settling. “Pregnant?” she whispers, the word tumbling out as if she’s still trying to believe it. “I don’t even know how to feel. I’m barely past hearing about my mom. Everything just feels like it’s spiraling out of control. I don’t know how to stop it.”
“Hey, it’s okay,” I say, my hands moving in slow circles on her shoulders, trying to soothe her. Her breath steadies a little, and her eyes finally focus on mine, searching for reassurance.
“Let’s get out of here,” I suggest. “You’ve been in this house long enough. Let’s go get some air and clear our heads.”
She nods slowly, like someone coming out of a dream. “Where?” she asks, her voice soft, almost childlike in its vulnerability.
“I know just the place.”
We leave the house and drive in comfortable silence to a park.
It’s a quiet spot, tucked away but alive with nature.
Birds flit between the trees, and squirrels dart across the grass, their movements light and free, as if the world is at peace here.
The grass is lush and well-tended. The air is clean and filled with the scent of greenery.
It’s a place of quiet rejuvenation. We sit on a bench, Leila nibbling on an ice cream bar, the simple pleasure of it bringing a smile to her lips.
There’s a lightness in her face now that wasn’t there before.
She even laughs, a soft, fleeting sound, when she watches a child chase after a playful dog.
It’s a small thing, that laugh, but it fills me with hope.
She’s starting to come back to herself, piece by piece.
I see the signs in her: a body healing, a heart finding its way again.
Watching her, I feel that same warmth I felt when she stepped out of that room, the same certainty that this is what I want—a family.
“Leila,” I begin, drawing her attention to me. Her smile fades, but not from fear or anxiety, just quiet curiosity. “I’m going to take responsibility for the baby,” I say, my voice steady.
Her playful expression turns more serious, a flicker of doubt crossing her features. “But… what if it’s Luke’s? Or Henry’s?” she asks, her voice low and uncertain.
“It doesn’t matter,” I reply. “I want us to be a family unit. All three of us.”
Her eyes widen in surprise. I knew that reaction was coming. I’m sure she never expected this idea to come from me, of all people. But I press on, knowing this is something I need to say.
“I think it would be best, given our individual strengths. Henry would make a great business partner for me, and that will be good for your father’s legacy and your family.
You know Henry and I will do whatever is necessary to protect you.
And Luke… well, Luke has been by your side for years.
He knows you in ways neither of us do. He knows how to care for you.
Together, the three of us, we could be something more, something stronger. ”
She looks at me, her expression unreadable for a moment.
But I can see she’s listening. Really listening.
Her silent expression reminds me of our first date, the way she looked at me before asking if we had any real chemistry at all.
That same look now tugs at something deep within me.
It pushes my emotions to the surface: the feelings I’ve kept guarded, the worry I felt when she isolated herself, the cautious thrill of hearing she was pregnant, the joy of seeing her again, of seeing her smile today.
And beneath it all, the undeniable truth: I’ve never felt like this about anyone before.
I want to tell her everything. I lay it all out there, how much I care for her, how much I need her. But when I open my mouth, the words get tangled and too heavy to speak.
Instead, I say, “I’d love for you to consider it, Leila. I think Henry and Luke would agree that we would make a great family unit.”