“I’d argue, but…” He grimaces. “Not helping, am I?”
“Not really.”
“Chloe.” His voice goes tired and gentle at once. “Stop deflecting and talk to me.”
“There’s not much story. He didn’t want us. He’s not in the picture. The end.”
Saying it out loud still feels like pressing on a bruise that should’ve healed by now.
“He’s Phoebe’s dad?” he asks, carefully.
It shouldn’t feel like a slap, but it does. There’s no insinuation in his question, but the truth is, Trevor is the only person I’ve ever been with in that way. I want to regret it, but I can’t, because Phoebe is the biggest blessing in my life.
I cross my arms. I hate this part—the heaviness of it, the way it can bruise something fragile. And it’s not like we wouldn’t get here eventually, but I assumed we’d do it ourselves.
Not have it forced on us because of the way dinner conversations seemed to go sideways.
“Yes.”
The silence that follows feels heavier than the explanation does.
His eyes narrow. Not angrily, just the look of a man who knows I’m purposefully being vague.
“Is he thefirsthusband your mom meant? Or is there another I should know about?”
“That’s not fair. You know she was making a dig about you—technically, youaremy second husband,” I say.
My cheeks flame, and I bite back the words I want to say. That he should’ve been the first and theonly, but they won’thelp, and they’d land wrong. They’d come from misdirected emotions.
“I don’t want this conversation either.” He leans forward, his elbows on his knees. “But I’m your husband, and these are things I should know. For this visit, and for us.”
He’s right, which frustrates me. I thought we could ease into the hard truths, but given how far everything has progressed, this is probably right on track.
“Fine. You’re right.” I blow out a heavy breath, then plant myself on the far side of the bed like the space can protect me while I say it. “Trevorwasmy husband, but it was short-lived.”
“How short-lived?” He asks quietly.
“We barely celebrated our first anniversary.” I shrug, because it doesn’t sting like it should.
A shadow crosses his face, but he holds.
“We met right after college, rushed something that should’ve taken time, and when I got pregnant, he walked away.”
I wince. It’s really not that cut and dry, but those are the highlights of that relationship. It was never close to what Aiden and I had then, or what we have now.
But it felt safe. Until Phoebe changed the equation, and then it wasn’t anymore.
“He left you. He leftPhoebe.” Anger and heartache flip-flop across his face. “He walked away and left you to take care of a newborn.”
“Yes.”
And he’s missed out on every milestone, ballet recital, and the simple joy of having her in his life. I’d say that it’s his loss, but he never embraced fatherhood.
The ache is old and familiar, even though I’m not that person anymore. I haven’t been in a long time. But talking about it puts me back in that too-hot apartment, alone, without a clue how to do any of it.
But I figured it out. At the time, I thought going home to Enchanted Hollow was a failure. Now, I can see that it helped build who I am today.
Even when Evelyn tries to nudge a bruise between my mother and me.
