Page 121 of Babies for the Big Shot

Sara hesitates. “I don’t. But what if it’s Isla?”

The hair on the back of my neck stands up as she catches the same thought I had. “Isla Vale?”

Sara’s voice drops to a whisper. “Maybe. I mean, she’s a journalist, right?”

I glance at her, and my chest tightens all over again. She looks tired. Fragile in ways she shouldn’t be, but there’s something in her eyes now, sharper, fiercer. Stronger in a way I didn’t expect. But I should’ve known. She’s never been weak.

“I’ll find out who she is,” I promise. “And what she wants. But for now…” I let out a breath. “I think you need to come and stay with me. Somewhere I can keep an eye on you.”

Sara stiffens immediately. “No.”

I blink. “No?”

“I’m not moving in with you just because things are scary now.” She crosses her arms, her jaw set, defiant. “I’m not some damsel you need to rescue, Nick.”

“I didn’t say you were.”

“You didn’t have to.”

I sit back, biting down on the instinct to argue. That fire in her, the way she stands her ground, it’s one of the things I first fell for. But right now? It’s standing between her and safety.

“Sara, this isn’t about pride. Someone stole from my office. They leaked private photos. Now they’re lurking outside buildings like they’re casing the place. And you’re carrying three babies.”

Her eyes flash. “I know exactly what I’m carrying.”

“I’m not saying you can’t handle yourself,” I say, soft but firm. “But I can’t sit in my penthouse knowing you’re here alone with Meatball and a deadbolt that looks like it came from Home Depot’s clearance rack.”

She opens her mouth, probably to throw that independence back in my face, but she doesn’t get the chance.

Because just then, Meatball bolts upright from the couch, snarling. His ears are up, his body tense, and he’s staring through the blinds at something we can’t see.

Sara freezes.

I’m across the room in an instant, my heart already racing. I glance out the window. I don’t see anyone, just the faint shimmer of movement near the alleyway. But it’s enough.

“That’s it.” I turn back to her, my voice hard. “Pack a bag.”

“I…”

“No,” I say, cutting her off. “I’m not asking.” I step closer, lowering my voice. “This isn’t about you needing help. It’s about me not walking away from you again. It’s about keeping you and them safe.”

Them.

The weight of the word hangs between us. And in that moment, it hits me. The depth of this. What I’m fighting for.

Sara’s mouth opens, but no sound comes out. Her eyes flood with emotion, shock, pain, maybe even relief. And before I can say another word, she’s moving into me, her arms wrapping around my neck.

This time, she does cry.

Really cry.

Messy, broken sobs that shake her whole body. I feel the wetness against my shirt, and I just hold her tighter. My hand slides to the back of her head, my lips brushing her temple, offering her what little comfort I can.

I don’t say anything, because what the hell could I say that would mean more than this?

“I can’t do this without you,” she whispers.

“You don’t have to,” I assure her. “Not ever again.”