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“I’m being slandered,” Chase mutters, scooting down next to me. “I haven’t even touched her.”

“Yet,” I say sweetly, still rocking Theo.

Chase shoots me a look that could melt the furniture, then his gaze drops again to Theo in my arms. To my hand tracing soft, lazy lines along his tiny back, and something achy changes in his expression again.

He leans in, brushing his lips just barely over my shoulder.

“You look good like that,” he murmurs.

“Jesus,” I mutter. “You’re worse than I thought.”

“What?”

“You’re giving total wife-guy with a breeding kink right now.”

He grins, dragging his lips up to the side of my neck and kissing gently. “Only because you’re hot, and nurturing, and you’d clearly have the coolest babies in the world… with me.”

“You’re twenty-five.”

He groans. “Not this again.”

“I’m older than you.”

“It’s four and a half years, Zo.”

“It’s four and a half very important years.”

“To who? The government?”

“It’s enough that your frontal lobe is still downloading.”

“Good,” he says, leaning back in. “Means there’s still room to install everything about you .”

I bite back a smile. This is how he always gets me, with the truth. Sometimes it’s wrapped in filth, sometimes it’s wrapped in flirting, but it’s always honest and no-hesitation devotion.

Still, I can’t let him win that easily.

“Walton.”

“Yeah?”

“Calm down before you accidentally impregnate me with your eyes.”

He laughs, breath warm against my skin. “Gimme exactly one minute and a dark room, sweetheart.”

***

The brunch chaos eventually settles into lazy, happy quiet. Kids curled into laps, coffee mugs half-drained, Reid asleep with his head tipped against the back of the couch.

I retreat to the kitchen to rinse some plates that don’t need rinsing. Theo’s asleep in the bassinet by the window, sunlight drifting over his little face. It’s the soft, sleepy kind of quiet that only happens in houses filled with love.

Charlie appears at my side, but I don’t look at her.

“Want some help?” she asks, already grabbing a plate.

“You’re supposed to be recovering from childbirth.”

“I’ll allow myself one dish,” she says, nudging the plate into the suds. “Especially from someone who’s been pretending to fake date her soulmate for the past few months.”

I nearly drop the mug I’m drying. “Jesus. Can we start with a hello?”

Charlie shrugs. “You were too busy dry-humping Chase to say hello.”

“We were not dry-humping,” I mutter. “There was a baby in my arms.”

“There was a vibe in your arms,” she says. “And also a baby.”

I roll my eyes and switch to drying cutlery. “He’s just… intense. He gets like that.”

“You’re calling him intense?” Charlie turns, arching one perfect brow. “Zoe, you called him emotionally unwell and then rocked my child in your arms while practically glowing. You looked like a mum in a holiday commercial.”

I flush and focus very hard on a spoon. “We’re not telling anyone it's real yet.”

“You’re not telling anyone, or you’re not admitting it to yourselves yet?”

“Charlie.”

She softens, nudging me with her hip. “I’m not judging, I’m happy for you. I’ve been happy for you since, like, the second you let him touch your coffee order.”

“That was fake.”

“Nothing about that man’s face when you walk into a room is fake,” Charlie says. “And neither were those photo booth pictures from the wedding.”

I blink. “How do you—”

“Tamara showed me,” she says with a shrug. “She said they were too cute not to print extras. Eli agreed. You were wrapped around each other like a damn rom-com poster. You were beaming , Zo. And he was looking at you like—”

“Charlie.”

“—he's in love with you,” she finishes, quieter this time.

I open my mouth to argue, but there’s a clatter in the doorway.

Logan stands there, holding a half-empty glass of orange juice and looking way too pleased with himself.

“Sorry,” he says, very much not sorry. “Just came in to rinse this. And accidentally overheard everything. ”

“Oh my god.”

Charlie waves a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry. He already knows.”

My head whips toward her. “What?”

She just shrugs. “Jake told him.”

“Jake?!”

“I told Jake,” she says innocently. “And Jake told everyone else because Jake has the discretion of a drunk parrot.”

“I’m sorry—what do you mean everyone else? ”

At that moment, Eli walks in. “Hey, we still doing coffee—” He sees my face and pauses. “Oh. You told her.”

“Told me what ?” I demand.

“That everyone knows,” Logan says, clearly delighted. “That you and Chase have been doing the worst-kept-secret in history.”

“I—what—how-how long have you known?”

Eli shrugs. “Since your first date night when you kissed Chase publicly, and his moan was posted across the nation.”

Logan snorts. “Or when we caught him on DoorDash in the locker room ordering your coffee delivery.”

“Or the insane amount of carnations , ” Charlie adds.

“I hate all of you,” I mutter, slapping a wet fork onto the drying rack.

Logan raises his glass in salute. “Congrats, by the way. We love a fake-dating-to-actually-dating arc. Very ‘Hallmark if Hallmark had orgasms.’”

Charlie cackles.

And even though my face is fully on fire, I feel a weird kind of weight lift. There’s no scandal, no awkwardness. Just this dumb, chaotic, aggressively loving group of people I get to call mine.

“You’re not gonna tell Pulse or Storm, right?”

Eli waves a hand. “Hell no. Let them keep thinking it’s fake. It’s kinda fun.”

Charlie nudges me again. “Besides, now we can all enjoy watching you two pretend to fake date while being legitimately real.”

“I’m still gonna murder your fiancé.”

“Can you do it after three a.m.? He’s on night feeds tonight.”