Page 273 of Bad Prince
Neither does he.
We just—look at each other. He looks sharper in person than the business picture of him that I had stared at a thousand times on my phone last night.
And then he says it.
Soft.
Certain.
“Stella.”
My name sounds different in his mouth.
Like it belongs there.
I let out a slow breath.
“Emmanuel.”
NotDad.
Not yet.
Maybe not ever.
We don’t rush that.
A flicker passes through his eyes.
Approval.
Respect.
Like I just made the correct move in a game I didn’t know we were playing.
I lift my coffee slightly, half-smirking.
“This has my DNA on it,” I say. “You want it? Save us both the time.”
For a second—he just looks at me. Then—the corner of his mouth lifts. Not a full smile. But something close.
“I don’t need proof,” he says. His gaze sharpens slightly. “I’ve already seen enough.”
That lands.
Deep.
Because I know what he means.
I saw it too.
In the mirror of his face.
He gestures lightly toward the street.
“There’s a car.”
“There always is,” I mutter.
