Page 85 of Babies for the Big Shot

“And then the envelope tonight,” Sara says, her voice dropping. “That was it. That’s when I called you.”

I walk over to the table and pick up the note again, the words still sharp, still dangerous.

“I had a run-in with a journalist, too. Someone told Emily they were here for a PR thing. But I didn’t clear it.”

I don’t mention the photo. Not yet. Not while she’s already drowning in this mess.

Her face falls. “You think it’s Rebecca.”

“I think it’s likely she’s behind it,” I say, moving closer to her. I crouch in front of her, keeping my voice low but firm. “She’sdoing this to mess with your head. But you’re not in this alone. You hear me?”

Sara blinks, her chin trembling slightly. “Nick…”

“I mean it,” I say, the words rough, the promise solid. “This ends now. I’m going to handle it. The journalist. Rebecca. Everything.”

Her throat works as she swallows, her fingers twisted in the hem of her sleeve. “I feel stupid.”

“Don’t,” I say, my voice fiercer than I intend. “This isn’t your fault. None of it.” I stand, move a piece of her hair behind her ear, the touch soft but lingering. “Let me handle the rest.”

She leans into my hand, just for a second, but it’s enough. Enough to crack something inside me. Because all this time, I told myself keeping my distance was for the best. That pulling back would keep her safe.

But staying away hasn’t protected her. It’s only left her scared. Alone.

And I won’t do that to her anymore.

“Sara,” I murmur, her name barely a whisper, but the weight behind it is undeniable.

She looks up, her eyes glassy and uncertain, trying to piece together where this moment fits in the mess we’ve become.

I can see the uncertainty in her eyes, the cracks that I’ve made in her trust. I step closer, my chest tightening as I look at her, the words I’ve been avoiding finally spilling out.

“I know,” I say, barely more than a whisper. “I’ve been distant. I thought… I thought pulling away would protect you, but all it’s done is leave you alone. And I never should have done that. I thought I was doing the right thing, but all I’ve done is make everything worse.”

She looks down, her fingers trembling where they rest on the edge of the table. She’s not looking at me, but I can feel the walls she’s built, the walls I helped put up.

“It’s not your fault,” she says softly, her voice breaking. “I just… I didn’t want to worry you.”

I shake my head, stepping closer. “No. You shouldn’t have had to carry this on your own. I should’ve been here. But I pulled away, thinking it was for the best, and now I see how wrong I was. I should’ve been by your side.”

My throat tightens, the regret hitting harder than I expected. “I’m here now. And I won’t leave you to face this alone. I won’t make that mistake again. You hear me?”

She meets my gaze then, her eyes searching mine, and for a moment, the world falls away. All I want is to hold her, to show her that I’m not going anywhere.

I reach up, brushing a strand of hair from her face, my fingers lingering for a second too long.

“You promise?” she whispers, and I answer her the only way I know how.

I kiss her.

Her breath catches, and then she’s kissing me back, slow at first, as if it’s something we’ve both been holding back for weeks. Every stolen glance across a boardroom table, every unspoken desire, funneled into this single moment.

Her hands slide up my chest, fingers gripping the front of my shirt, holding on to something solid, something real.

And fuck, I know that feeling. I’ve been in free-fall since the night of the gala, and she’s the only thing keeping me from crashing.

When I pull back, just enough, our foreheads rest together. Her eyes stay closed, her breath soft and unsteady.

“I don’t want you afraid,” I murmur, my voice rough, low.