Page 70 of Dissonance

I swallow, throat thickening as I watch them, trying not to laugh at the unadulterated joy shining from my niece’s eyes. He looks…natural. Like he belongs in this scene, this house, the chaos of a birthday, just as much as anyone else here.

One day, he might be doing that with our child.

“Cake!” Izzy declares, already dragging him away toward the living room.

He glances back, shrugging, Izzy’s excitement pulling him forward. Jess’s hand latches onto my arm before I can follow, steering me into the kitchen. It’s marginally calmer in here, the dining table pushed against the far wall, buried in bowls of snacks and half-empty juice cartons, and a tray of mini sausages that’s been thoroughly ransacked.

“You do not get to walk into my house with a mountain of a man who looks like Gerard Butler’s long-lost brother and not expect me to ask questions,” she says as soon as we’re alone, grabbing a bottle of wine from the counter and filling two glasses, shoving one into my hand. “Who is he?”

I stare down at the wine like it might hold the answers to the extremely loaded and extremely complicated question.

“A friend,” I try.

“A friend?” she says with that specific tone of someone who’s known me long enough to hear exactly how unconvincing I sound. “Oh, please. You do not bring a man like that to a family party and call him a friend. And before you try saying he’s a colleague, just know that I know Mae, and I’ve met everyone at your father’s company, and that man is neither. So, try again.”

I huff out a breath, my fingers biting into the stem of the glass. “We’ve known each other for years.”

“Mm-hmm,” she hums, leaning against the counter. “And are you two…dating?”

The question hangs in the air, heavy and loaded. Glancing through the open doorway, I just manage to catch him through the gap, Izzy’s hand in his, pointing at something while he listens with the same undivided attention he gives everything.

Are we dating?

I don’t know. Not because I’m avoiding it—okay, I might be avoiding it—but I genuinely don’t. All I know is that he shows up every morning, he’s moved in across the hall, he cooks food he knows won’t trigger my morning sickness. And when I’m with him, the endless noise in my head goes quiet in a way it doesn’t anywhere else. Whether any of that would exist without the pregnancy, whether he’s doing this because he’s choosing me or the situation he feels responsible for, I’m not ready to know. Not because I’m a coward, but because it’s the first time in longer than I can remember that I don’t feel like I’m doing everything alone. And I don’t want to pull on that thread and find out the whole thing unravels.

I’m about to answer when a hand appears in front of me, cool aluminum replacing the wine. Lockie sets the glass on the counter behind me without a word, just a brush of his lips against my temple.

My shoulders drop, my body leaning into his as I whisper, “Thank you.”

His fingers press briefly at my waist, dark eyes locking onto mine before Izzy’s summoning him once more.

“You okay?” he checks, nodding when I smile, then he’s heading back to the other room.

“Oh my god,” Jess breathes, eyes wide.

“Jess—”

“You like him,” she whisper-yells, grabbing my arm. “You actually like him, like him.”

“Honey? Where did you put the trash bags?” Ed appears in the bi-fold doors, saving me from his wife, his sleeves pushed up, a smear of glitter across his cheek. He stops when he sees me, breaking into a grin. “You’re here!”

“I said I would be.” The look I give him is pointed, and he grins, completely unrepentant.

“Next year, we’re renting a place,” he says, stepping inside and kissing Jess as she shoves a roll of bags into his chest. “I love our kid, but there’s sparkles in places that sparkles should never be.”

Jess laughs and wipes at his cheek. “You’re the one who said yes to the craft table.”

“That was before ten little girls got their sticky hands on it.” Shaking away a chuckle, he turns to me and winks. “Don’t have kids, Thea. Stay the fun aunt who gets to hand them back when they’re messy and covered in chocolate.”

The twist of irony isn’t lost on me, and I smile, hoping it looks more normal than it feels, my fingers wanting to brush against my stomach. But a shriek of laughter bursts from the living room, snagging my brother’s attention. “Who’s she got in there?”

“Thea’s brought someone,” Jess says pointedly.

Ed’s eyebrows shoot upward. But before he can ask more, Izzy barrels back in, dragging Lockie behind her.

“Daddy! Lockie said he’s never had a s’more. Can we make some? Please.”

“Lockie?” Ed blinks, then squints. “Wait, I know you… Didn’t you do security for TAC Management a couple of years back?”