Isla told him on a quiet morning in early autumn, nearly a year after the uneasy peace with Drake had settled into its careful rhythm. She waited until they sat together over breakfast, the warehouse district's familiar sounds drifting through the open window, before finally speaking the words she'd apparently been holding for days.
"I'm pregnant, Mercer."
He set down his cup carefully, afraid his hands might betray the sudden flood of emotion threatening to overwhelm his careful composure. "You're certain."
"The healer confirmed it yesterday. Nearly three months along, apparently, though I've only suspected for the past few weeks." Isla's smile carried genuine joy beneath careful watchfulness, waiting to gauge his reaction properly.
Mercer crossed the small distance between them, pull
