"I'm exactly where I want to be," he said. "Have a good night."
Brittany's smile froze. For a moment, she stood there, hand still on his shoulder, like she couldn't quite process what had happened. Then she withdrew, wounded dignity in every line of her body.
"Nice meeting you," she said to neither of us, and walked away.
The silence stretched for a beat. Then I raised an eyebrow.
"Does that happen a lot?"
"More than I'd like."
I nodded absentmindedly.
"She wasn't who I wanted to talk to." Shane shrugged and picked up his fork.
He could have taken her number, could have been flattered, played along, kept his options open.
Instead, he'd looked at me like I was the only person in the room.
The wine loosened the careful hold I kept on myself. Or maybe it was the restaurant, the candlelight, the way Shane listened like everything I said mattered. Whatever it was, I found myself talking.
"I was seventeen when I found out I was pregnant."
The words came out steady. I’d told this story before, in pieces, to people who needed the facts.
But never like this. Never all of it.
"My parents wanted me to... they had opinions. Strong ones. About what I should do." I took a sip of wine. "There was a guidance counselor. Pamphlets. Conversations about myfutureand mypotentialand how one mistake didn't have to define my life."
Shane didn't interrupt. He didn't offer platitudes. He just watched me with those steady blue eyes.
"I kept her. Obviously." A small laugh that didn't have much humor in it. "And my parents... they couldn't forgive me for that. For choosing differently than they wanted. For embarrassing them." I traced the stem of my wine glass. "They gave me an ultimatum. Give the baby up, or figure it out on my own. I figured it out on my own."
Shane's expression didn't change, but something in his eyes did.
"David was supportive at first," I continued. "When I left my parents' house, he promised to take care of us. Said we'd figureit out together. Get an apartment, raise the baby, make it work." I smiled, but there was no warmth in it. "He meant it, I think. At the time. He was seventeen too. He didn't know what he was promising."
I took another sip of wine and let the warmth of it settle in my chest before I kept going.
"We got a tiny apartment in Flushing. I worked at a diner until I was eight months pregnant. David picked up shifts at his uncle's auto shop. We were broke and exhausted and completely unprepared, but we were doing it. Together." I paused. "And then Zoe came, and everything changed."
Shane waited patiently.
"Babies are hard. Harder than either of us expected. David started staying out later. Picking up extra shifts, he said. Hanging out with friends who didn't have screaming infants at home." I shrugged. "I told myself it was normal. That he needed to blow off steam. That once Zoe was older, once things got easier, he'd come back to us."
Shane's fingers curled against the tablecloth. A small movement, barely noticeable, but I caught it.
"He tried. I'll give him that. We got married when Zoe was two. I thought it would fix things. Make us a real family." Another bitter laugh. "It didn't. He resented us. Resented that his life didn't look like his friends' lives. That he couldn't go out on weekends or take spontaneous trips or have a wife who wasn't always exhausted. Five years in, he told me I was too much and not enough at the same time. Too much baggage, not enough attention for him."
Shane's hand covered mine on the table. Warm. Solid.
"He was wrong," Shane said. Quiet but certain. "About all of it."
"You don't know that."
"I know exactly that." His fingers tightened on mine. "You know what I see when I look at you? A woman who built an entire life out of nothing. Who raised an incredible kid on her own. Who shows up every single day for children nobody else fights for. Who's so damn strong it takes my breath away."
My eyes were burning. I blinked hard.
