Page 73 of Baby For My Ex's Brother

"Yeah, I think so. Maybe just short on sleep or something." My voice sounds more convincing than I feel. It's not just lack of sleep. The letter from Trinity looms in my thoughts, an unopened verdict on my future.

"Let's get you seated, okay?" His arm slips under mine, guiding me away from the railing's cold metal.

The ferry docks with a gentle jostle, and as we step onto solid ground again, relief floods through me. The island is a kaleidoscope of autumn—reds and golds painting the trees, apristine blue ocean stretching into the distance, dotted with pretty vacation homes, and iconic lighthouses like postcards come to life.

Liam leads me to his car, and we drive down winding roads lined with nature's vibrant display. The sickness fades, falling away like leaves from the branches, and I find myself caught up in the beauty of Martha's Vineyard.

"Wow," I exhale as we pull into the driveway of a secluded home—his home here. It stands proud and inviting against the backdrop of the setting sun, casting a warm glow over the wooden facade.

"Like it?" His voice is soft but edged with pride.

"Like it? It's beautiful, Liam." As I step out of the car, I take a moment to simply stand there, taking it all in. The crunch of gravel under my shoes, the salty tang of the sea air, the way the house seems to fit perfectly into this picturesque landscape—it's a world away from the chaos of my own mind.

"Come on. Let's get you inside." His hand finds the small of my back, guiding me toward the house.

The door swings open, and we step into a space that's both grand and intimate. The walls are hung with paintings, splashes of color and emotion that I recognize as the work of Liam's mother from back at his place in Boston. Modern furniture is arranged with an artist's eye, inviting and sophisticated all at once.

"Make yourself comfortable," he says. "I'll get you some tea. It might help settle your stomach."

"Thanks, Liam." My voice is a whisper of gratitude as I wander into the living room. A plush couch beckons me, and I curl up in its embrace, sinking into the cushions as I try to quell the storm inside me.

A few minutes later, Liam returns, a steaming mug in his hands. He sets it on the coffee table before turning to tend tothe fireplace. Flames lick the logs, and soon a comforting crackle fills the room. The warmth spreads, chasing away the chill from outside and within.

"Here." He hands me the tea. I wrap my hands around the mug, the heat seeping into my fingers, grounding me.

"Thank you," I murmur, taking a tentative sip. The herbal blend is soothing, calming my unsettled nerves.

Liam sits beside me, close enough that I can feel the heat from his body. He watches the flames dance for a moment before his gaze finds mine, a question lingering in the air between us.

"Feeling any better?" His voice is gentle, laced with concern.

"Getting there," I admit. And it's true—the tea, the fire, his presence—they're all working their magic on me. But the unease, the fear of what comes next—it's still there, a knot in my stomach that refuses to untie.

He reaches out, his hand finding the small of my back, and I lean into him without thinking. It's instinctive, the way I seek his comfort, his warmth. He wraps an arm around me, pulling me closer until I'm tucked against his side. The steady beat of his heart is a rhythm that anchors me.

"Shiloh," he says softly. "Talk to me."

"It's nothing," I lie, but it comes out weak, unconvincing.

He chuckles, the sound vibrating through his chest and into me. "I know you better than that. You've got your worry lines going on." His thumb gently brushes across my forehead, smoothing away the invisible creases I know are there. "Whatever it is, it's okay. You can tell me."

His faith, his openness—it makes this so much harder. How do I drop this bomb and disrupt the calm we've created here? All I can think about is the way he looked at me when he saw my application material at the office weeks ago. I don’t want him to get angry… to feel like I’m abandoning him.

I sit up, creating space between us, needing to see his face when I say it. My fingers are reluctant as they release the mug, setting it down with a soft clink.

"Liam..." I start, my voice barely above a whisper. He waits, patient, expectant. "I got into Trinity."

His eyes search mine, a mix of emotions playing across his face. There's surprise, yes, but something else too, something I can't quite read.

Then the surprise gives way to a grin so wide it could split his face. He lunges forward, his arms encircling me in a secure embrace that lifts me off my feet for a moment. His kiss lands like a benediction on my forehead, warm and reassuring.

"Congratulations, Shiloh," he breathes out, his voice thrumming with excitement. "That's amazing news! We need to celebrate. I'll cook something special for dinner tonight."

I want to melt into him, to let his enthusiasm wash away the dread pooling in my stomach, but I can't. Not yet.

"Should I head out and grab some champagne?" He's already halfway to standing, his body poised to leap into action.

I reach out, tugging gently at his hand. "No, don't worry about it. I'm not feeling great," I say, trying to keep my voice steady.

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