41. Eli #2
He says it so simply.
No hesitation, no apology, or joke shoved in front of the truth to make it easier to swallow.
His hand is still at the back of my neck.
Mila is still in my arms. My face is still hot enough to cook breakfast on, but Julian stands beside me and tells the house that we belong to each other in the only words the moment needs.
I smile before I can talk myself out of it. “Yeah,” I say, voice quieter than the room deserves. “We are.”
His face softens so completely that I almost forget to be embarrassed. All the ugly things are still there. They don’t vanish because he says we’re together. But the good thing doesn’t vanish either; it stands right there beside me.
“Thank fuck,” Ryan says, throwing both hands in the air. “Do you know how exhausting it’s been watching this slow-burn tragedy with cleats?”
Luca immediately grabs the back of his shirt and hauls him one step away from me. “Give them literally one second of sincerity.”
“I gave them fifteen seconds,” Ryan protests.
“You gave them seven.”
“Seven is generous in this economy.”
Luca looks at me and Julian, his expression a mix of amusement, relief, and something softer he’d probably deny if I named it. “For the record, I’m happy for you both. Also, for the record, Ryan is no longer allowed to ask household questions before coffee.”
Ryan gasps and places a hand over his heart. “Censorship.”
“Public safety,” Sage corrects.
Roman lifts his mug slightly toward us. “Congratulations.”
Liam’s mouth softens as he looks at Mila in my arms, then at me, then at Julian. “About time.”
“About time?” I repeat, and the embarrassment gives way to offense because that feels easier. “How many of you knew?”
Adrian, who has said almost nothing so far, chooses that exact moment to glance toward Thorn and Roman. Roman glances back and Thorn grins around his sucker.
I narrow my eyes at them. “What?”
“No,” Julian groans beside me, suddenly alert, and Thorn’s grin widens.
Roman sighs and reaches into his pocket. Adrian does the same with significantly less visible emotion, though the tiny crease near his mouth gives him away. They each pull out cash and hand it to Thorn, who accepts it with the serenity of a man receiving tribute.
My mouth falls open as I realize what’s happening. “You bet on us?” I demand.
Thorn folds the money once and tucks it away. “Technically, we bet on the reveal.”
“The reveal,” Julian repeats.
“The relationship was obvious,” Adrian says. “The uncertainty was timing and trigger event.”
Roman nods. “I had confession after a major emotional breakdown.”
“That’s extremely specific,” Damon says.
Roman gives him a look. “This house runs on major emotional breakdowns.”
Adrian gestures toward Thorn. “He had Ryan saying something inappropriate after an audible incident.”
Thorn’s grin turns unbearable. “I know my people.”
“I am honored to be recognized as a catalyst,” Ryan says, sounding surprisingly sincere.
“You are recognized as a liability,” Luca says.
“How much?” Julian asks, and there is enough menace in his voice that Thorn’s grin flickers.
“Twenty each,” Thorn says.
I stare at him. “That’s it?”
Julian turns to look at me. “That’s what you’re mad about?”
“I’m insulted. Our epic love story is worth forty bucks?”
Ryan points at me. “That is the right reaction.”
Liam groans. “Please don’t encourage the gambling ring.”
I should be furious. I should be mortified beyond recovery. I am still mortified, to be clear. Somewhere in the back of my mind, last night is still replaying in flashes of hands and mouths and the sounds Ryan apparently heard enough of to traumatize an entire breakfast.
But the bigger feeling unfolding under the embarrassment is something dangerously close to happiness. “Together, huh?” I murmur.
His mouth curves. “That okay?”
I look at him, at the man who has been my best friend since I was too little to know the difference between rugby and football and too stubborn to admit I was wrong.
The man who loved me through every version of myself, even the ugly ones.
The man who held the worst evidence of my life so I didn’t have to see it, then held me while I found a way back into my own body.
Julian leans closer until his mouth is near my ear. “For the record, I think our epic love story is worth more than forty bucks.”
Despite myself, I laugh. “Shut up.”
“It’s at least worth sixty.”
I elbow him carefully because I’m still holding Mila. “Asshole.”
“Sweetheart.”
The word lands warm and easy this time, even in the middle of the kitchen, even with everyone around us. Maybe because everyone is around us. Maybe because there’s no hiding now and the world didn’t end.
Ryan lifts his coffee in our direction, having apparently escaped Luca again through sheer slipperiness. “To Eli and Julian,” he announces. “May their future sex noises be quieter or at least better scheduled.”
As mortified as I am, I can’t help but laugh at the fucker. I look around the kitchen, at the ridiculous collection of men who have somehow become the people standing between me and the worst parts of the world. They’re nosy, loud, emotionally intrusive bastards.
They also stayed.
They stayed through Mila’s arrival four and a half months ago, my parents’ rejection, Julian’s confession, Blakely, Celeste, Mara, all of it. And now they’re raising coffee mugs to something I didn’t know I’d ever get to have.
I look down at my daughter, then at Julian, then around at the people who stayed when my life became something broken.
Together is a small word for all of this. Too small, maybe. But it’s the one we have, and as Julian’s fingers lace with mine behind Mila’s back, I decide it’s enough for now.