Philip watched the movement of Joanne's hand, instinctively covering her belly. A ghost of a smile crossed his face—gentle, almost wistful.
Without a word, he stepped toward the ring box lying open on the floor. The ring inside had shifted, nearly falling out of its delicate perch. With surprising tenderness, Philip picked it up and repositioned the diamond carefully inside, closing the lid with reverence.
"That boy…" he said, his voice low, more to himself than to her. "He's made his mistakes. Plenty of them, especially with you."
He turned back to her, holding the small velvet box in his hand. His eyes softened, the weight of years and regrets glinting behind them.
"But he loves you," he said, more firmly now. "More than he knows how to handle. More than he ever learned to show. And this—this child you're carrying…" His voice dipped again. "No one is happier about it than him. That, I know for certain."
