Page 104 of Break Me

I almost smile, but I keep going. “You were tired last night. More than usual.”

Her shoulders lift in a small shrug. “I spent a lot of time in the garden yesterday.”

“I know,” I say. “And the bath, and everything else. I get that.” I pause, choosing my words carefully, even though the conclusion feels solid. “But I’ve been thinking.”

That finally gets her full attention. She sets the fork down, head tilting slightly.

“About?”

“About you,” I say. “About us.”

Something shifts in the air between us. Not alarm. Just awareness.

“You’ve been moving a little slower,” I continue, gentle but sure. “You fell asleep the second we laid down. You didn’t even stir when I got up.”

She frowns, puzzled. “Okay…”

I reach across the table without thinking, my hand covering hers. “Raven,” I say again, quieter now, steadier. “I think you might be pregnant.”

Her breath catches, sharp and surprised, eyes dropping instinctively to where my hand rests over hers.

For a moment, neither of us moves.

Her fingers stay under mine as her eyes search my face again, not for a way out, but like she’s recalibrating.

“Pregnant,” she says softly, testing the word.

“Yeah,” I say. “Pregnant.”

She lets out a breath that’s half laugh, half disbelief. “You really woke up and decided that, huh?”

A corner of my mouth lifts. “I woke up and noticed things.”

“Like me sleeping in?” she says.

“And being exhausted,” I add.

Her gaze drops, thoughtful now. “I have been tired.”

“I know.”

“And food’s been weird,” she admits.

That sends another spark of hope through me.

She looks down at the plate again and nudges the fruit with her fork. “You really made all this?”

“For you,” I say. “For both of you. If I’m right.”

She smiles. The kind that starts small and spreads. “You’re already acting like it’s real.”

I don’t deny it. “I am.”

“I don’t hate the idea,” she says as her fingers curl around mine.

My chest tightens in the best way. “Me neither,” I say. “Actually, I kind of love it.”

That makes her laugh, soft and surprised, like it slipped out before she could stop it. She presses her hand to her stomach again, slower now, intentional.