Reed
. . .
Catalina had said she wanted a family dinner on Saturday, but since she’s impatient and wants things her way, here we are, a day later, after I fingered Layla in my bar.
Surprisingly, she hasn’t asked why Layla is here early, which is good because once Catalina prys, she doesn’t stop and will scream at you until she gets answers.
I don’t know how I’m going to focus the whole time without thinking about Layla squirting all over my hand.
Christ, she’s poured her sunshine into my veins, and I can’t get enough.
Shaking my head, I take in my surroundings so I don’t look like a lunatic, thinking to myself.
Carter and Catalina’s house smells like rosemary and butter, the walls vibrate with everyone’s laughter, and every inch of the table is covered; half-empty plates, wine glasses, crumpled napkins, and Leo’s baby bottle sitting close to a bowl of mashed potatoes.
Maverick’s in full dad mode.
He’s got Leo strapped to his chest, bouncing him while his other hand shovels food into his mouth, his other hand gesturing wildly as he tells a story that’s way too animated.
“So there I am, three a.m., no sleep, no clue what’s happening, and this tiny dude—” he looks down at Leo with utter adoration, “—decides to unleash hell all over my shirt. I thought I’d seen horror, but this, this was next level.”
Amelia groans as she buries her face in her hands. “He’s exaggerating.”
“I am not!” Maverick says, his voice full of fake outrage. “I’m traumatized! I went to change him, and he—he giggled, or farted. He knew exactly what he did.”
“Babe,” Amelia says, trying not to laugh, “he’s three months old.”
Maverick points dramatically. “So!”
The table erupts into laughter.
Catalina lets out a huff, turning her attention towards Layla, who’s sitting right next to me.
She tilts her head, squinting across the table, as she leans forward, analyzing.
“Oh my God.” Catalina’s finger lifts, pointing right at Layla. “Layla LeBlanc,” she says slowly, reverently, “you dirty girl.”
Heat crawls up my neck, burning its way across my cheeks, and I smother myself in my bourbon glass to hide it.
My stomach, though, drops straight out of my ass.
“What?” Layla says, already panicking, but trying to hide the shakiness in her voice.
Catalina practically vibrates. “Brian gave you a nice hickey on your neck.”
Layla spits her water clear across the table, choking, coughing, and slapping her hand down on the table. “I—WHAT—CATALINA—”
I stare at my plate.
Relax, Reed, there’s no way they’d suspect anything.
My ears are on fucking fire. My jaw tightens. I consider, briefly, whether I can still disappear into the woods and never be seen again.
Maverick loses his damn mind, laughing so hard, all while Leo is strapped to his chest. “NO FUCKING WAYYY,” he shouts.
Carter groans, and Amelia drops her head onto the table, letting out a long sigh before glaring at her husband.
Catalina is squealing. “Oh, babe, that’s not subtle at all,” she continues. “That man said ‘this one’s mine’ and signed it in purple.”
She’s not his. She’s mine.
Layla slaps at her neck, mortified, covering the hickey I gave her. “It’s not even that bad!”
Catalina squints harder. “Baby, it’s purple.”
I clear my throat, which does absolutely nothing to help. I keep my eyes down, gripping my glass.
Maverick leans back, a feral grin forming across his lips. “Amelia has a ton of those. Show em’, baby.
Amelia squints at Maverick. “Really, Maverick? In front of our son?”
Maverick gently covers Leo’s ears. “My wife loves to be fuc—”
I choke on absolutely nothing.
“Enough,” I mutter, finally looking up and shooting him a warning glare. “You’re done.”
Maverick only grins wider. “Am I?”
Carter groans, pinching his brows together. “You’re all done before I flip this table.”
Catalina’s laughing so hard she almost spills her water, leaning into Carter’s shoulder.
Carter shakes his head, smiling, his hand resting on hers on the table.
Every time she looks at him, he softens, his tough exterior melting away into something that still surprises me at times.
They look happy. Effortlessly happy.
Catalina tucks her hair behind her ear, her eyes flicking toward everyone with a glow that feels different. Softer. Nervous, maybe.
Her cheeks are flushed, as her hand tightens around Carter’s atop the table.
“Alright, settle down, you fucks” she says suddenly, her voice bright but trembling. “Can I have everyone’s attention for a sec?”
The room quiets instantly, or as quiet as it can get with Maverick in it.
Carter glances at her, brow furrowed. “What’s going on, darlin’?”
She turns to him first, and that’s when I notice the way her eyes glisten, the shimmer that no longer looks like laughter. “So...” she begins, voice trembling slightly. “I wasn’t sure how to say this. I’ve been keeping a big secret.”
Carter freezes. “What kind of secret?”
She takes a deep breath, her lips parting in a nervous smile as her gaze softens. “You’re going to be a dad.”
For a heartbeat, everything stops.
Carter blinks, still holding her hand like he’s not sure he heard right. “What?”
Catalina’s smile widens, tears streaming freely now. “Baby, I’m pregnant.”
His chair scrapes back as he stands, blue eyes widening in disbelief. “You’re serious?”
She nods, laughing through tears. “Yeah. I found out weeks ago. I wanted to be sure before I told you.”
He covers his mouth with his hand, his throat working, trying to hold back the tears, but it doesn’t last.
A choked sound escapes him, half laughter, half sob. He pulls her from the chair, pulling her against his chest, his arms wrapping around her so tightly.
“Baby,” he breathes into her hair. “You—God, you’re—” He laughs again, tears streaming down his face. “You’re gonna make me a dad.”
Catalina nods, her hands clutching the back of his shirt, both of them shaking, crying, and smiling all at once.
The rest of the table erupts. Maverick yells loudly enough to startle Leo, standing with his hands in the air. “UNCLE OF THE YEAR, BABY!”
Amelia’s crying now, too, clapping her hands together. “Oh my God, Catalina!”
Layla squeals, practically bouncing in her chair, already rushing over to hug Catalina. “You’re gonna be the cutest mom in the world!”
Carter’s still holding her, still in disbelief, tears wet on his cheeks as he presses his forehead to hers.
He whispers something only she can hear; her hand moves up to cup his jaw, and both of them smile through it.
And I can’t look away.
Because in this room, surrounded by warmth, laughter, and love that feels alive in every corner, I’ve never felt more like I’m on the outside looking in.
I want that.
That kind of love. That kind of life. Someone to look at me like I’m the only person in the room. Someone to cry with me over something this beautiful.
But I can’t even imagine it.
Not with this skin. Not with these scars. Not with the face people still flinch at if they catch me from the wrong angle.
I take a slow sip of whiskey, letting it burn down my throat, eyes fixed on my glass instead of the scene before me.
The sound of Catalina’s laughter echoes through the house, followed by Carter’s low voice, the kind he only uses with her.
Layla’s hugging them both now, her hair catching the light as she smiles.
I tell myself I’m fine. That this is enough, that being here, part of their world, even from the sidelines, is something I should be thankful for.
But deep down, it feels like standing in a room full of light and realizing you’ll always be the shadow.
So I raise my glass, pretend the tears in my eyes are just from the bourbon, and force a smile when Carter looks up, laughing through his own.
“To family,” he says, his voice thick with emotion.
Everyone cheers. Everyone smiles. Everyone glows.
And I sit there quietly, holding my glass to my lips—wishing, just once, that I could believe I deserved to be part of it, too.
Hours pass, and the table’s a mess—plates piled on one side, napkins crumpled in wine glasses, crumbs scattered everywhere.
Carter hasn’t stopped looking at her.
He’s sitting close, his arm still wrapped around her shoulders, his other hand absently tracing small circles on her thigh. His eyes are red-rimmed, but there’s a light in them I’ve never seen before; soft and raw all at once.
She’s glowing. He’s undone.
It’s the kind of love that fills a room and makes everyone else disappear.
I sit at the far end of the table, silent. My hand rests on the base of my glass as my index finger slowly drags along the rim.
I can still hear Carter whispering to her—half-laughing, half-choked up.
“Can’t believe it,” he murmurs. “You’re gonna make me a dad, baby.”
Catalina wipes at his cheek, smiling through her own tears. “I love you so much.”
A dull, lingering ache hits me in the chest, one that never fully goes away.
Across the room, Maverick still has Leo strapped to his chest, pacing. Amelia trails behind him, trying to coax him into sitting down.
“Baby, he’s fine,” she says, laughing.
“He’s too quiet,” Maverick says, peering down at Leo. “That’s suspicious.”
Amelia raises a brow. “He’s sleeping.”
“Exactly,” Maverick says grimly. “He’s planning something. Probably another blowout.”
Catalina bursts into laughter, and Carter groans. “Christ, Mav, sit down before you drop him.”
“I got this,” Maverick says, confidently, right before Leo starts fussing.
This putrid smell hits, making Catalina gag.
“Oh my God!” Catalina squeals, pinching her nose.
“Oh, no,” Maverick says, going pale. “Not again.”
Amelia groans, already rolling up her sleeves. “I told you he was fine.”
“He’s not fine!” Maverick’s voice cracks. “He’s leaking! Oh my God—Catalina, do something!”
Catalina’s doubled over laughing. “Hell no! Auntie duties are closed for tonight.”
Amelia unstraps Leo from Mavs chest, picking him up, muttering, “Babe, I swear!” as she heads down the hall.
Maverick calls after her, dramatically clutching his chest, as he follows suit. “Hold on, dollface! You’re so hot when you yell at me.”
I sit there, smiling faintly, but it doesn’t quite reach. My chest feels heavy, full of everything I won’t say. It all becomes too much, and I excuse myself, hiding out in the kitchen.
Ducking into the kitchen, I brace my hands on the counter, trying to breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth, attempting to swallow the sting crawling up my throat.
I’m still catching my breath when I hear soft steps behind me, already knowing it’s Layla.
“You disappeared,” she says softly, edging a little closer.
“Crowded room,” I mutter, turning towards her. “Needed a minute.”
“You sure?” she asks, voice low, eyes searching my face as if she’s worried she might find the truth.
I laugh under my breath, humorless. “I’m fine.”
She moves closer. “Reed... you don’t have to be okay with me.”
Her words hit harder than they should because she’s the last person I should let in.
After what happened between us last night, her trembling against me, my name slipping from her lips, I’ve been terrified that seeing her in daylight would make everything too real.
It does, and God, I wish I could call her mine, even if it were only for one damn day.
She wets her lips as her hands twist nervously at her sides. “Are you… regretting it?” she asks, her voice small.
My head jerks up. “What? No. Fuck, no.”
“Then why are you hiding from me?”
That hits right where I try to bury it every damn day.
I reach up and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, my fingertips brush the side of her neck, caressing over the hickey I left there.
“I’m not hiding from you,” I say softly. “I’m hiding from the part of me that wants more.”
“More… what?” she whispers.
I swallow hard.
“More mornings,” I confess. “More… us.”
Her eyes widen, every hint of playful confidence fading into something raw and fragile.
“Reed…”
“I know I shouldn’t want you like that,” I continue, still caressing the side of her neck. “Not while you’re still tied to someone, but you…” I pull in a shaky breath. “You feel like a life I never thought I could have again.”
She moves closer to me, her hands rising to rest on my chest. My heartbeat falters beneath her palms.
“I didn’t know you felt that way,” she admits. “About... anything. About me.”
I huff out a rough laugh. “No one does. I don’t let them.”
Her fingers curl into my shirt. “You let me,” she whispers.
Fuck. I do.
I tilt her chin up so she’s looking at me; nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.
“You scared the hell out of me last night,” I tell her. “Because when I touched you, it didn’t feel like something I should forget in the morning.”
She sucks in a breath, exhaling as she stands on her tippy toes, looping her hands around my neck. “I don’t want to forget it either.”
I lean in, not quite kissing her as my lips brush her cheek, then the corner of her lips.
Her breath comes fast, matching mine. She tilts toward me instinctively, as if we’ve done this a thousand times.
I mumble against her lips. “Tell me you want more.”
Her fingers slide up, threading into my hair, a whisper of a tug that nearly buckles my knees.
“Yes,” she exhales. “I want... everything we’re not supposed to want.”
I close my eyes for a beat.
Hope hurts, but she’s worth the pain.
Before I can steal the kiss I’m craving, voices draw nearer from the living room; laughter and footsteps heading our way.
We break apart just enough to look innocent, just enough to lie. But her hand stays in mine, hidden between our bodies, as if she can’t bring herself to let go.
Neither can I.