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I roll my eyes. “Sure.” The pandering just makes it worse.

“Hey,” he tugs me closer, “we’ve been through a lot, haven’t we?” At my stilted nod, he ducks down, pressing a kiss to my pulse point. “I had no doubt you were strong, but watching you give birth to Justice was next level. Anyone can slit a throat, but pushing out a six-and-a-half-pound baby and then feeding him and taking care of him? You’re a goddamn superhero.”

I squirm, feeling unfairly patronized. “Stop.”

Wicker doesn’t let me turn away, taking my face in his hands. “We know that your body needs to rest and recover.” His blue eyes hold mine. “We’ve had to take breaks before. We survived. We can do it again.”

I blink back the sting of tears. “But… before, I didn’t look like this.”

He stares at me, eyebrows raised. “What the fuck are you going on about?”

“Wicker,” I beg, “don’t be a dick.”

Shrugging, he replies, “I don’t know what you want me to say. Boobs are always hot. Big or small. Sagging or so filled with milk they’re about to pop.” He spins me, dragging my back against his chest, not letting me escape as he points me to the mirror. “Your tummy,” he begins, digging his fingers into thegive, “is soft because you carried our son in there. Your ass is wider because you were feeding him, helping him grow strong. The stretchmarks and chapped nipples… it’s all just the story of our family written on your body. Just like Pace’s tattoos and Lex’s scars.” He presses a kiss against my neck. “And if that’s not convincing enough, I watched you eat bacon this morning and turn it into milk to feed our son. That shit is pure wizardry.”

Now I’m crying harder, the tears streaming down my cheeks. Still behind me, his hands move to my face, wiping off the tears with his thumbs. “Look at me, Red.”

I meet his eyes in the mirror.

“If you think I’m going to go looking for someone else, you don’t get me, but that’s fair. I haven’t always put myself out there. Vulnerability isn’t my forte.” He tugs at my hair, letting it fall over my shoulders. “I love you, Verity—every part of you—because you made me see that I could be so much more than an object to be sold and traded.” His cheek presses against mine and it’s wet from his own tears. “You made me into a man, and then you gave me the chance to be a father, something I never even thought I wanted, but somehow, you knew I was worth it.”

All those insecurities seem foolish as he wraps his arms around me and squeezes me tight.

“I love you, too.” I tell him. Then after a big sniff—ugh, fluids—I add, “And you’re really not pissed about the no-sex thing again?”

“I’m getting better at being patient.” Since I can feel his boner against my leg, I roll my watery eyes, and he smirks at my reflection. “Okay, I’mtryingto get better at being patient.”

Sniffling, I try, “I won’t get mad if you want to look at porn, or if you and Pace want to?—”

He cuts me off with a sharp sound. “Thatis something we do with you, not alone. Seeing you with him is what turns me on, and it’s the same for him. Understood?” I nod, feeling a flushwash over my skin as he assesses me, a divot in his brow. “And porn doesn’t cut it for me anymore. Not when I’ve got the sexiest woman in the world in my bed. But let’s make a deal.” He turns me so he can look at me, head on. “If I get the urge to rub one off before we can do it safely,” he offers, watching as his finger trails down my chest, “then I’ll save it for you. But if you get the urge, you save it for us, okay? If you’re getting off, I want to watch.” In a deep voice, almost a groan, he adds, “And god do I want to watch that.”

The flush returns to my cheeks. “Really?”

I search for any trace of a lie, but he holds my gaze unflinchingly. “You have no idea, Red.”

The idea isn’t unappealing. In fact, I feel a bit of a tingle at the thought. “It’s something we do together,” I agree, leaning into him, “even if ‘together’ looks a little different right now.”

I’ve just wokenup from a small, half-hour nap, and I’m laying in bed with Justice, admiring his little button nose as he dozes. I’ve never taken care of a baby before, and I didn’t really have many expectations for him to live up to, but he seems to be a good baby. He cries, but only for the usual things. Hunger, changing, temperature.

Each of the guys has their own way with him. Pace likes to walk him around the palace, through hallways and rooms, and sometimes even outside. When I watch Pace with Justice, I see a father who wants to show him the world as much as protect him from it.

Wicker likes to play for him. I haven’t seen him with his cello so much the whole time I’ve known him. It’s nice, the house being filled with music at the oddest hours. If I wakeup, disoriented and alarmed, a calm always rushes through me when I hear Wicker’s cello reverberating down the halls. When I do, I know he has him. When I watch Wicker with Justice, I see a father who wants to show him his heart.

Lex likes to relax with him. He’ll scoop Justice up and take him to the sitting room, laying him on his chest as he watches TV, late at night, after classes are done. More than once, I’ve walked in on him, discovering his glasses askew as he sleeps, Justice fast asleep against him. When I watch Lex with Justice, I see a father who wants to show that time is precious, and he’s eager to spend it doting on his child.

But I like doing this.

Just watching him.

“Good morning, J.J.,” I whisper when he awakens, tickling his tiny feet. He’s a skilled kicker, always full of energy at this time of morning. His gray-blue eyes are just like his hands, frenetic, searching out everything and nothing. I lean down to press a kiss to his tummy, bare since the little spit-up mishap that occurred after his feeding an hour ago. “What’s on the agenda for today?”

“Today,” comes Pace’s voice, startling me, “you’re going to have a break.”

Looking over, I see him stalking into the room, throwing the drapes open wide. Bright sun fills the room, making my eyes squinch. “Gah! Too bright.”

Pace doesn’t relent, throwing open a dresser drawer. “My first lecture got canceled, so I have the morning free. And since Wick is a hopeless layabout?—”

“Hey!” Wicker squawks, strutting into the room. “I do a lot of work around here, thank you very much. I don’t see you or Lex cooking dinner on the reg.”