Page 126 of Filthy Rich Silver Foxes
It’s a baby. Our baby.
I swallow hard against the lump in my throat.
Sebastian edges closer, one hand resting lightly on the exam table, the other clenching and unclenching at his side like he doesn’t know where to put it. Silas leans in, brushing a kiss against my knee, murmuring something soft I can’t quite catch.
The technician finishes her measurements, prints out a series of photos that will go right on the fridge when we get home. She hands them over with a warm smile, before stepping out to give us privacy.
For a long moment, none of us move.
Then Silas rises and presses a kiss to my temple, whispering, "Let’s get you home, G."
Home.
The word rings in my ears.
* * *
Dinner is simple. Comfort food. Max insists on it, stopping to pick up a few things on the way home, even though Silas grumbles that he could’ve just cooked. I sit at the kitchen island, watching them move around each other with an ease that says everything words can't. Sebastian opens a bottle of nonalcoholic sparkling cider, pouring a glass for me.
There’s no formal toast. No big speech. Just a clink of glasses, a few gruff words of congratulations, and the kind of thick, golden silence that means more than any words.
It’s silly, really. We already knew about the baby, there’s nothing to celebrate. But it feels like a monumental moment all the same. Our baby was moving. We’re moving forward, together. This is worth celebrating.
“We need to make a big list of all the things we need when the baby comes,” Silas says with a big grin.
“We’ve got awhile though,” I interject. “But, yeah, there are so many things babies need. A list would be good. I can start picking things out.”
Silas takes a sip of his cider. “I want to help, G. I’ve always wanted to be a dad and have one of those front baby carriers. Think we could get on of those?”
I giggle thinking of Silas with a baby carrier or, even funnier, a baby sling strapped on the front of his huge chest.
“I want to have the whole place baby-proofed before he or she arrives,” Max adds.
“That probably doesn’t have to happen right away, but I love that you’re thinking about it already,” I say, feeling a warmth in my chest.
By the time we finish dinner and settle into the living room, the weight of the day starts pressing down on me. I curl my legs underneath myself on the oversized sectional.
Silas flops down beside me with a grunt, stretching an arm over the back of the couch. Max sits on my other side, pulling my legs across his lap, his hand resting absently on my shin. Sebastian lingers a moment longer before taking the armchair across from us.
It’s so much. All at once.
I blink back tears, heart hammering.
I need to say it.
Before I lose my nerve.
"I love you," I say, my voice catching in my throat. I clear it and try again, stronger this time. "All of you."
Silas leans in first, pressing a kiss to my cheek. "Love you too, G."
Max's thumb brushes the inside of my ankle, deliberate and slow. "More than you could ever know."
Sebastian rises without a word, crossing the short distance to the couch. He kneels in front of me, resting his hands lightly on my knees, looking up at me like I’m the only thing tethering him to earth.
"You have me," he says, his voice rough. "Every fucking part of me."
Tears prick my eyes, but I blink them back. There’s no sadness here. Just overwhelming gratitude. Relief. Love.
