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Julian's expression softens, the lines of strain around his eyes relaxing as he considers my words. "You’re right," he admits, his voice a low murmur. "It's just hard, you know? To find that balance between keeping her safe and being overbearing."
My hands move up to cradle his face, drawing him down to my level. "You don't have to do everything on your own anymore," I whisper before pressing another kiss to his lips, this one deeper, lingering, charged with the tension of our unresolved emotions and the undeniable attraction that always simmers between us.
This time, Julian reciprocates, deepening the kiss and becoming more insistent. I feel his arms wrap around my waist, pulling me closer as his body responds to mine, each touch reigniting the familiar heat that dances along my skin whenever we're this close. I open my mouth to his, our breaths mingling, hearts pounding.
But as much as I want to lose myself in this moment, the reality of our situation—my pregnancy and the unresolved threats—presses urgently against my conscience. Reluctantly, I pull away, placing a hand on his chest to steady myself, both physically and emotionally.
Julian looks at me, his gaze holding mine. "Nat?" he breathes out, his voice husky.
I offer him a small, apologetic smile. "This is probably not the best time,” I remind him, fully aware that Aria could burst into the room at any moment.
Julian nods slowly, understanding yet visibly affected by the intensity of our connection and the necessity of restraint. "You're right. As always," he adds with a wry smile, his fingers lingering on my waist for a moment longer before he steps back.
We find Aria and her sitter in the kitchen, an array of colorful crayons and paper on the dining table. What a different life that would be, every problem solved with a cookie or a crayon, or strong hug from Daddy. Of course Julian is crazy with worry over Aria. I've only just begun getting to know her, and already she's stolen my heart.
One day—sooner than I had expected—I’m going to have my own little one to protect. I can only imagine how much stronger that instinct must be when it's your own child, a tiny piece of yourself that you've pledged to lead through the world.
Julian and I watch Aria spread her art supplies across the kitchen table, a kaleidoscope of colors and possibilities laid out before her. Aria, fully engrossed in her creative process, occasionally looks up to ask for our opinion on which shade of blue is the sky or which green makes the best grass. Each time, Julian bends down to her level, engaging with her questions seriously and thoughtfully, his deep voice gentle and encouraging.
It's these moments, watching Julian interact with Aria, that reinforce the depth of his character—his kindness, patience, and innate protectiveness. These qualities, which so strongly define him, resonate with me more profoundly in the calm after our earlier storm of emotions.
As Aria decides on a particularly vibrant shade of green, Julian catches my eye and gives me a small, knowing smile. We're going to be late for work.
“Okay, kiddo. It's time for Daddy and Natalie to go to work,” Julian announces, gently ruffling Aria's hair.
Aria looks up, her face momentarily clouded with disappointment. "Do you have to go, Natalie?" she asks, her voice tinged with the innocent sorrow of a child not wanting the fun to end.
"I do, sweetie," I reply, kneeling beside her. "There’s a lot of work waiting for me, but I promise to come back and see more of your beautiful drawings soon, okay?"
Aria nods, mollified for the moment, and then throws her arms around my neck. "Be careful, okay?" she says, echoing the concerns of our adult conversations in her own childlike way.
"I will, Aria," I tell her, squeezing her tightly before releasing her. I stand and turn to Julian, who has been watching our exchange. "Your daddy and I will keep each other safe," I assure Aria.
Julian presses a gentle kiss to her forehead before he stands as well and thanks the sitter for watching Aria today. We leave the house in silence, neither of us speaking until we're back in the privacy of Julian's car.
Before he starts the engine, Julian lowers his head, his voice soft. “Nat," he begins, his voice quivering slightly, "please, be really careful, okay? I’m worried about your safety too.”
His concern for me is beautifully raw. "Ever the protector," I say, stroking his hair. "But remember, don’t let it overwhelm you. We’re in this together."
He nods, his eyes reflecting a mix of resolve and affection as they lift to meet mine. "Together," he agrees.
CHAPTER 26
NATALIE
The sharp tang of morning sickness jolts me awake, far earlier than the alarm set on my nightstand. Clutching my stomach, I lurch from the bed and barely make it to the bathroom before I’m sick.
I've only been pregnant for a few weeks, and already the nausea is overwhelming. For a while, I lay there on the bathroom floor, wondering how I’m going to get through the work day feeling like this.
Thankfully, this wave of nausea passes as quickly as it came, leaving me shaky but relieved. I sit back against the bathroom wall, the coolness of the tiles a small comfort against my clammy skin. The desire to crawl back into bed and forget the responsibilities waiting for me is incredibly tempting.
It's not just the morning sickness that's overwhelming, it's everything; the life growing inside of me, all the threats surrounding Julian and the Langford Building, and the thin ice we seem to be skating on every day.
Even so, I can’t afford a day off. The projects are all falling behind, and with Julian already under so much pressure, I can’t let things slide on my end. With a deep, steadying breath, I push myself up and lean against the sink, meeting my own gaze in the mirror.
The woman looking back at me is a far cry from the put-together professional I’m used to seeing. Her eyes are tired, her skin paler than usual.
I splash cold water on my face, hoping to wash away the lingering traces of nausea and fatigue. There's still been no call or message from the police. And no updates mean no progress. Every day that goes by without an ending to the Mason situation adds to my building frustration and anxiety, which is also not helping my physical health. I need something tangible; some progress to hold onto, but for now, there’s nothing.
