The look on her face, confusion, then offense, should satisfy me. But it doesn’t. Not really. Because all I feel is clarity.
Crystal fucking clear.
I stare at her, and all I can think is:This was never love.
Not even close.
It was pressure and image and performance. Smoke and mirrors dressed up in designer heels. I mistook her ambition for affection, her manipulation for devotion. I thought pain was just part of the package.
But now?
Now I know better.
I know what it feels like to want someone down to your bones. To crave their laugh more than their approval. To missthe little things, like the way they talk to plants or hum while stirring sauce, or blush when someone flirts with them in line at the bakery.
I know what it feels like to be seen. Held. Chosen.
Josie.
That’s the difference.
Savannah was a habit.
Josie’s a heartbeat.
“You should go,” I say again, voice low and even.
Her expression shifts, flickers of disbelief, then irritation, and finally something cold and haughty, the mask sliding back into place.
She steps back, fixing her coat with a dramatic tug. “I actually think I want something to eat. Any tables free? You need to sit with me because I have a lot I need to tell you.”
Oh no…
CHAPTER THIRTY
Josie
I stand outsideThe Marrow for a solid three minutes before opening the door.
The late afternoon sun filters through the front windows, catching on the polished copper fixtures and the soft flicker of candlelight at each table. Everything inside looks calm. Peaceful. But my heart is anything but.
I press my hand to my stomach, which has become a habit of mine, and exhale slowly.
Okay. You can do this.
I’ve run through a hundred versions of how I’ll say it. In the mirror this morning, while brushing my teeth. Out loud while driving here with Maya’s hand on mine. Whispered under my breath while unpacking knives in the prep kitchen.
Knox, I need to talk to you.
No, too serious.
I found out something unexpected.
Nope. Too vague.
So, funny story. Turns out I’m pregnant. With your baby. Surprise!
Shit, Josie.