Page 304 of Iced Up Love: Part Two
“This is just the beginning for you,” I say. “And I want to be there for that. Every step.”
His eyes hold mine.
“I know you do,” he says quietly. “And I love you for it.”
Elijah doesn’t step in the same way. He doesn’t need to. His presence is already there, surrounding me, anchoring me, and when his hand settles at the back of my neck, firm and grounding, I feel it just as strongly.
“Then we’re doing this,” he says.
There’s no hesitation in it now.
I let out a slow breath.
And for the first time since everything started to spiral, I feel it.
Not fear.
Not panic.
Not that crushing weight of being watched and judged and exposed.
Something else. Something steadier. Stronger. Like I’m stepping into something instead of running from it. Like I’m choosing this. Like I’m choosing my life. My future. Myself.
Because I’m not the girl I was before.
And I’m not standing alone anymore.
As the conversation shifts into logistics, security, timing, entry points, I let myself sink into the feeling of it. The nerves are still there, but they don’t control me. Because underneath them, there’s something else now. Something solid. Something unshakable.
And as I glance between the three men who love me...
I know exactly where it came from.
sixty-six
Liana
Getting ready for this doesn’t feel like getting dressed.
It feels like stepping into something that’s already in motion… and deciding not to step out of its path.
The silk of the blouse settles against my skin as I smooth it down over my stomach, the fabric soft but present, like a reminder every time I move that I’m here, in my body, not somewhere else. The trousers sit clean and structured at my waist, holding me together in a way I didn’t realize I needed until now.
I pause in front of the mirror.
Not to fix anything.
Just… to look.
Really look.
My reflection doesn’t feel like something separate from me tonight. It feels like a version of me I’ve been trying to become without realizing it, steady, composed, aware of what’s coming but not folding under it.
My hand drifts to my stomach, resting there for a moment. Everything tightens, then settles.
The baby.
The relationship.
