Page 135 of Baby Surprise for my Brother's Best Friend

“You miss her, don’t you?”

I don’t answer. I don’t need to.

The silence between us says everything. I finally blow out a breath, my hands scrubbing down my face. “She’s pregnant.”

Luciana freezes, the apple halfway to her mouth. “Jesus, Les.”

She sets the apple down, her brows pulling together.

“And you’re here? Not with her?”

“I thought I was protecting her. There were threats. Notes left at our door. People watching us. I thought if I left, if I stayed away, she’d be safer.”

Luciana's eyes widen, alarm flashing through them. "Wait, threats? Notes? Les, what the hell? You never said anything about that."

I rake a hand through my hair, the weight of it all crashing back down. "It started a while ago. Notes slid under our door. Messages left on the windshield. First, it was just threats about me. Then it turned into threats about Sophie."

She shakes her head, her expression darkening. "And you didn’t think maybe, I don’t know, letting someone help might’ve been a better idea than ghosting the woman carrying your kid?"

My gut twists. "I thought keeping my distance would draw the danger away. That leaving was the only way to protect her."

Luciana exhales sharply through her nose, like she’s trying to hold back everything she wants to say…and failing miserably.

She folds her arms, giving me that piercing look she inherited from Mom.

"If it were me, and I loved someone that much? Nothing,nothing, would keep me away. Not fear. Not threats. Not even my own damn pride."

She steps closer, dropping her voice. "You’re not doing her any favors by disappearing, Les. She needs you beside her. Not hiding somewhere, hoping it all goes away. Away from the one person you should be protecting by being there for her."

She pulls me into a hug, squeezing me tight like she’s trying to knock some sense into me.

I hug her close. "You smell like airplane seats and stale peanuts."

She laughs, pulling back with a mock glare. "I know! I need a damn shower."

For the first time in days, a tiny, reluctant smile pulls at my mouth.

***

Later that night, I sit on the edge of my bed, staring at my phone like it might bite me.

Sophie’s name lights up the screen.

My thumb hesitates before I finally hit accept.

“Hey.” My voice is rougher than I mean it to be.

“Hey,” she echoes, calm and polished.

We talk, but it’s all surface-level. She tells me about yoga, about how Halie dragged her to a new café afterward. Her voice sounds light, almost cheerful.

But I can hear the cracks underneath if I listen hard enough.

She brings up the ultrasound, almost like an afterthought.

“I sent you a video.”

I scramble to open the file, my heart hammering against my ribs.

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