My hand finds the small of Natalie’s back instinctively, trying to ground her, but she’s already spiraling. I hate this. Hate that I can’t fix it. Hate that all I can do is be here and hope that’s enough.
“Nat—”
“I need to leave.” Her voice is barely above a whisper.
“Okay. Let’s get our coats.”
We make our way toward the exit, but the countdown to midnight is starting. The ballroom erupts in noise—people shouting numbers, glasses clinking, the anticipation building.
“Ten! Nine! Eight!”
I grab our coats from the coat check.
“Seven! Six! Five!”
Natalie’s already at the door, but I catch her hand, pulling her gently to a stop.
“Four! Three!”
“Jake—”
“Two!”
I cup her face, forcing her to look at me.
“One! Happy New Year!”
And I kiss her. Right there in the hotel lobby, with the celebration erupting behind us, I kiss her like she’s mine. Like this year mattered. Like the next one will too.
When I pull back, her eyes are wide, surprised.
“I’ll take you home,” I say quietly. “But I want you to know that I’m grateful you came into my life this year. And I’m excited about being with you in the next one.”
Her eyes shine with tears she won’t let fall. She just nods.
The drive back to her place is quiet. She stares out the window, and I don’t try to coax any conversation out of her.
When I pull up to her bungalow and put the car in park, she finally speaks.
“Will you stay with me tonight?”
“Yes,” I say immediately. Relief floods through me. “Of course I will.”
twenty-eight
. . .
Natalie
I haven’t slept morethan three hours a night since New Year’s Eve. Every time I close my eyes, I see Rebecca’s face. That unreadable expression. When she looked at my belly and said, “Let’s talk when we’re back at work.”
Which is today. The nausea hits before I’m even out of bed, sharper than usual, my stomach churning with what I wish was only morning sickness but I know is pure dread. My phone lights up on the nightstand.
Jake
Morning. You looked so peaceful, so I didn’t want to wake you when I left. I left you some breakfast. Good luck today - call me when you can.
He’s stayed with me all week offering reassurances and saying Rebecca won’t fire me, that she’s too smart for that, that my talent speaks for itself. But I’m not sure he gets it. It’snot his fault, it’s just that men never have to walk into rooms wondering if their career will implode the second someone notices their body.
