.
“Then I’m walking you home.”
That earned him a small, humorless laugh. “You don’t get to decide things for me anymore.”
“I can decide to walk beside you.”
She stopped again and faced him fully. “There he is,” she said. “The man who thinks his decisions are gravity.” Then, after a beat, her expression sharpened. “Fine. Walk. But you do not raise your voice. You do not send anyone after me. And you do not act like my body is territory you’re taking back.”
He met her gaze. “Okay.”
She looked more unsettled by his immediate agreement than she would have been by argument.
They turned onto a quieter street lined with older brick buildings and small storefronts. A corner coffee shop glowed amber against the cold. Its fogged window and crooked chalkboard sign looked absurdly cozy compared to the storm moving through his head.
Evelyn stopped. “I want hot chocolate.”
He blinked. “Now?”
She lifted a brow. “Pregnancy is not subtle.”
Against all reason, a laugh almost escaped him. “You used to hate sweets.”
“I cried yesterday because a dog in a commercial found its owner,” she said flatly. “People change.”
Inside, the coffee shop smelled like cinnamon and espresso. A teenage barista looked up, recognized Dominic in the vague, dangerous way people in Chicago sometimes did, and immediately grew tense. Evelyn noticed. Without drama, she stepped half a pace so the girl had to address her instead.
“One hot chocolate,” Evelyn said, “with extra whipped cream.”
The barista nodded too quickly.
“You want anything?” Evelyn asked him.
What he wanted sat three feet away wearing a camel coat and a wedding ring no longer on her finger. He forced himself to answer like a civilized human being. “No.”
They took a corner table. Evelyn wrapped both hands around the mug when it arrived and closed her eyes briefly after the first sip, as if comfort required concentration. He watched her, and when she sensed it, she opened one eye.
“What?”
He shook his head. “Nothing.”
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