“The rumor mill went wild with this one. And Dig all but confirmed it when he tried to knock me out,” Nick continued, taking a step closer. “I needed to know for myself if it was true.”
“Well, now you know.” I crossed my arms over my chest—or tried to. My belly got in the way. “You can go.”
“Is it mine?”
The question hung in the air like smoke.
I stared at him. “Are you seriously asking me that right now?”
“I just need to know—”
“Yes, it’s yours!” The words came out louder than I meant. Somewhere behind me, a wheel of Manchego rolled off the shelf and thudded to the floor. “You were the only person I’d been with in like, a year. The math isn’t complicated.”
He held up his hands. “Okay. I’m sorry. I just—” He dragged a hand through his hair. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
A bitter laugh escaped. “You gave me a fake number, Nick. You ghosted me at the bar. What was I supposed to do, hire a private investigator?”
He winced. “I panicked, okay? We had one night—”
“We had three months,” I corrected. “Three months of you saying you wanted something real, that you were tired of hookups, that I was different.” My voice shook. “And then the second I finally let you in and told you I had feelings for you, too, you disappeared. After you got what you wanted, of course.”
“That’s not—” He stopped, jaw working. “It wasn’t like that.”
“Then what was it like?”
He didn’t answer.
The silence stretched. Outside, a tour trolley rattled past, the guide’s cheerful voice muffed through the glass.
I sank into one of the bistro chairs near the window, my legs suddenly unreliable. The baby shifted, pressing against my ribs.
Nick sat across from me, elbows on his knees. “Look, I get that I screwed this up. But I’m here now. We can figure it out.”
“Figure what out?”
“Whatever you need. Money, support, if you, you know, want to… I can help.”
I shook my head. “I don’t need your money.”
“Tally, come on—”
“I don’t need anything from you,” I said firmly. “I’m fine.”
His eyes swept the shop—the apron, the cheese wheels, the small space that had become my refuge. “Are you? Because it looks like you’re working retail while pregnant and living with your brother.”
The judgment in his voice made my chest tight.
“I’m building a life here,” I said quietly. “I have work. I have friends. I’m figuring it out.”
“By yourself.”
“I’m not by myself.”
“Right.” He leaned back, something bitter crossing his face. “So there’s someone else.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“But there is.” It wasn’t a question.
