The late afternoon sunlight streamed through Alistair’s apartment, bathing the room in a golden hue. Riley was sprawled on the couch, flipping through a magazine, while baby Sam cooed happily in his improvised playpen. Alistair had just finished cleaning up the remnants of their impromptu lunch when his phone buzzed on the kitchen counter.
The name flashing on the screen made his heart skip a beat: Isabel. He hesitated for a moment before answering, bracing himself for what was bound to be a complicated conversation.
“Hello?” he said cautiously, wiping his hands on a dish towel.
“Ali, what the hell is going on?” Isabel’s voice was sharp, laced with both anger and confusion. “I saw the tabloids. Who’s the girl? And the baby? Is it yours?”
Alistair exhaled, his free hand gripping the cou
