“She’ll never be.”
My voice breaks completely now, just a rasp of what’s left of me.
“You are,” I whisper, like a prayer. “You’re the only one. You’ve always been the only one.”
The silence that follows is unbearable. Because in it, I realize the truth I’ve been running from: apologies don’t fix what’s already shattered.
I stand, legs unsteady, and take a hesitant step toward her—wanting, needing to give her some kind of comfort, because I can’t just stand here and watch her fall apart in front of me.
But when I reach for her, she flinches.
“Don’t,” she says, her voice trembling yet sharp enough to cut through me. “Don’t touch me.”
I freeze, my hand suspended in the air, a ghost of what it used to be.
Her eyes find mine. Full of pain, fury, disbelief. In that look, everything inside me caves in.
She wipes her face with the back of her hand, trying to steady her breathing. When she finally speaks again, her voice is colder. Distant in a way that makes my stomach twist.
“I’m going to call the school tomorrow,” she says, her eyes fixed somewhere past me. “The kids won’t be going back until after the holidays. I’m taking them with me to the cabin on Stone Ridge my parents rented. We’ll stay there until New Year’s.”
Her lips press into a thin line. “I was planning to go with them after Christmas, but after everything that happened today, I can’t risk it. I don’t want them vulnerable if something else happens.”
She finally meets my gaze, and it's worse than if she hadn’t—because her eyes are dry now, resigned. “I don’t know how you want to handle things, Colin. But if you want to see them for Christmas... you’ll have to come there.”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.
“I don’t even know how they’ll react,” she adds, her voice low. “Alicia’s been asking a lot of questions about that article. Ethan hasn’t said a word to me, or about you, and that scares me more than anything.”
I rub my face, trying to keep my voice from breaking. “Cecily, please…”
She shakes her head. “No. Not now.” Then, softer, “I’m not telling them yet. Not about the pregnancy.”
I close my eyes. That word again.
“I just want them to have a peaceful Christmas. As happy as it can be under the circumstances,” she says, her voice trembling now. “But when we get back, they need to know. And you’re the one who’s going to tell them.”
Her eyes glisten, but she doesn’t cry this time. She’s past tears.
“I can’t keep covering for you anymore, Colin. That ended along with our marriage.”
I swallow hard, guilt clawing at my throat. There’s nothing I can say that would make her stay. Not after everything I’ve done.
The sound of light footsteps pulls me out of the fog.
When I turn toward the stairs, Alicia is standing at the bottom, wearing one of Ceci’s oversized sweaters. Her eyes are swollen, her face red and blotchy from crying.
And my heart cracks in a way it never has before. Not the sharp kind of pain that fades, but the slow, unbearable ache of watching one of the people I love most look at me like I’m the reason her world is breaking.
She doesn’t move. She just stands there, clutching the hem of her sleeve like it’s the only thing keeping her upright.
“Is it true?” she asks, her voice trembling.
I rise slowly, taking a step toward her, my stomach twisting into knots. “What, sweetheart?”
“What they said on that site.” Her chin trembles. “That you have a new girlfriend.”
For a second, I can’t breathe. “No,” I say quickly, shaking my head. “It’s not like that. People write terrible things online.”
