Liora woke at 3 AM, tangled in Dashiell's sheets, his arm around her waist, his hand protective on her stomach.
Reality crashed down like ice water.
She'd done it again. Broken her promises. Betrayed Leander. Chosen momentary pleasure over permanent commitment.
"Stop thinking so loud," Dashiell murmured, his voice rough with sleep. "I can hear your guilt from here."
"I need to go."
"I know." But he didn't release her.
"Dashiell—"
"Five more minutes. Give me five minutes where we don't have to think about consequences."
Liora let herself relax back into him. Just five minutes. What harm could it do?
In the darkness, Atlas kicked. Dashiell's hand moved instinctively, finding the movement.
"He's awake too," Dashiell said. "Must have inherited his father's insomnia."
"Which father?"
