Something inside me snaps. I push back from the table so fast the chair screeches against the floor. “Then you’re an idiot,” I bite out, grabbing my bag and storming toward the door before he can say another word.
Matthew
Quietly, I follow behind Brooke, careful not to make any more of a scene than we already have. Heads turn as we pass, a few whispers trailing in our wake, but she doesn’t look back. Not once.
Outside, it’s started to rain again, a soft drizzle that soaks into our clothes as soon as we step out.
“Brooke, talk to me,” I say, my voice quieter this time.
“Let’s just go home, please.”
It’s not anger this time, it’s exhaustion. And it hits me then, a gut-punch reminder that she’s not just angry or upset. She’stired.She’s growing an entire human being, working and worried about the future.
So, I bite my tongue and say nothing more. Instead, I fall into step beside her, matching her pace all the way to the subway. We ride in silence, the tension coiled tight between us, the rain still clinging to our hair and clothes when we finally reach my, our apartment.
The second the door shuts behind us, Brooke explodes.
“How could youeven say that?” she yells, spinning to face me. “Do you realize my fatherkilled my motherbecause he cared more about getting high than her life,ourlife?”
I try to stay calm, even though my chest feels like it’s caving in. “I get that,” I say carefully. “I do. But there’s a difference between protecting yourself and throwing fuel on the fire. Zeke went to rehab, Brooke. He’s been clean for almost a year.”
“So that just makes itokay?” she snaps.
“What more can he do?” I ask.
“He cannotbe an addict! God,” she shouts, her voice cracking under the weight of it, “do you realize what you’re asking? What you want to put those kids through?Ourkid through?”
“Where is this coming from?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Me!” she screams, pressing a trembling hand to her chest. “I’m his daughter. Hiscopy.One day I might be the addict. The murderer. And then it’ll be up toyouto protect our child. And I need you to understand that. I need you to understand that youhaveto protect our child.”
A tear slides down her cheek, and as I watch her shoulders shake, the pieces click into place. This isn’t about Zeke. It isn’t about Stella. It’s abouther, her fears, her ghosts, the weight she’s been carrying since the day her world fell apart.
I step closer, my voice steady even as my chest tightens. “I will protect our child. With my life, if I have to.”
She nods, her breath coming hard and uneven.
“And I’ll protectyoutoo,” I add softly. “I will never give up on you. I will never walk away from you.”
“Why?” she whispers, frustrated, broken, like she doesn’t believe she deserves it.
I take a slow step forward, then another, until I’m standing right in front of her. She doesn’t look at me, her gaze is fixed somewhere on the floor, like she’s too scared to meet my eyes.
Gently, I lift my hand and place it at the curve of her neck, the warmth of her skin thrumming beneath my palm. My other hand finds her cheek, coaxing her chin upward until her tear-filled eyes finally meet mine.
“Because you’re mine,” I say softly, every word deliberate. “My partner. My wife.”
Her hands move to my waist, fingers curling into the fabric of my shirt, bunching it at the back as she stares into my eyes. I know what she’s searching for there, proof, certainty, something solid and I don’t hide. I let her see all of it: my love, my loyalty, my promise.
Slowly, she leans up and presses her lips to mine. The kiss is gentle, fleeting, breaking before it can go anywhere deeper. Then she stays close, her forehead resting against mine, her breath warm against my skin.
“I love you too,” she whispers.
I smile, letting my dimples peek out. “About damn time, woman.”
With that, I lean down and scoop her into my arms. She giggles as I carry her toward the bed.
She feels so light in my arms, so perfectly fitted against my chest. But instead of throwing her onto the mattress like every instinct in my body is screaming for me to do, I gently set her down on her feet in front of the bed.
