“Why did you call me Daddy?” he asked. Emily closed her eyes. “Nathan—”
“No. I want that answer before any other one. Why did you stand there holding his son and tell that boy to call me Daddy?” “I panicked.”
“You smiled.” “I panicked and smiled. I didn't know what else to do.”
“You had three years to think of something else to do.” The little boy started crying. Marcus stepped forward. “Give him to me.”
Emily hesitated only a second before passing Noah over. The child settled against Marcus with immediate recognition, one small arm wrapping around his neck. Nathan watched it happen and felt something inside him give way—not because Marcus loved his son, but because the intimacy confirmed how fully this separate family had developed within the walls Nathan still legally called home. “Take him next door,” Emily said.
Marcus shook his head. “I'm not leaving you alone with this.” Nathan let out a laugh so short and empty that Emily flinched. “You think you need to protect her from me?”
“I don't know what you're feeling right now.” “You know exactly what I'm feeling.” Nathan took one step toward Marcus and stopped himself.
He was larger than the other man, stronger, and trained in ways that made the physical imbalance impossible to ignore. Marcus instinctively shifted Noah away from the space between them. Nathan saw that too. He backed up immediately.
“Get the child out of here. I'm not going to touch either of you. But he shouldn't hear this.” Marcus looked at Emily.
She nodded. “Take Noah home,” she whispered. “Please.”
Marcus stood there another second. “Emily—” “Go.”
He left through the front door carrying the toddler whose crying faded gradually across the lawn. Nathan waited until the door shut. Then he removed his patrol cap, set it on the entryway table, and asked the question Emily had known was coming since the day Noah was born. “How long?”