Her eyes widen. “That’s dramatic.”
“So am I.”
She studies me for a long moment, then glances at the twins again. “You’re not just dramatic,” she says softly. “You’re terrified. Understandably so.”
I swallow. Maybe I am. The terror of it all hasn’t sunk in yet. I’m sure there’s more to come.
Olivia pulls the chair closer to my bed and sits like she’s settling in for a long argument. “Okay. Let’s unpack this.”
“I just had two humans exit my body. Nothing is getting unpacked right now.”
She rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean.”
I glance at the twins again. One of them squirms slightly, making a soft, offended noise. My heart jolts like someone pressed a panic button inside my chest. I whisper, “I hate that sound.Makes me think something is actually wrong. I know it’s not—he’s obviously fine. But my chest clenches every time.”
“That’s the hormones.”
“I know,” I mutter, wiping at my face. “I cry when I look at them. I cry when I don’t look at them. I almost cried because the nurse brought me apple juice.”
“You’re not a crier.”
“I am well aware.”
She leans forward, elbows on her knees. “So,” she says, getting back to the topic at hand, “you wanted to tell him.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Because he was steady. Because he didn’t flinch. Because when he told me I did good, it felt like something real instead of performative.
I shrug instead. “Because I was in pain.”
“And why else, because I know it was more than that.”
I look at her, and for a second I consider lying. But Olivia has known me since my sophomore year. She knows my tells.
The words scrape out of me. “He looked at me like I was capable. Not fragile. Not messy. Just…capable. Like an equal of some kind, not like a girl who made the worst decision of her life and has to live with the consequences.”
“And that made you want to confess you crashed his New Year’s Eve party and slept with him in his son’s bed and are now mother to his kids?”
“When you list it out like that?—”
“It’s the truth.”
I swallow again. “Maybe I wanted to ruin this. Like, giving birth is supposed to be this magical thing—and it was—but I’m a ruiner, Liv. That’s what I do. It’s who I am. It’s why I live for drama, why I fuck up?—”
“No, it’s not.” Her voice is sharp, like her eyes. “You do those things because you think you don’t deserve anything good in your life, so you ruin them. And it’s bullshit, you self-sabotaging nut job.”
I sigh and roll my eyes to my sons.Mysons.
Olivia leans back, studying me like I’m a puzzle she’s not thrilled about solving. “You realize that Damian has a right to know.”
I stare at the ceiling. “I realize that. Intellectually.”
“And?”
“And I can’t handle that conversation right now.”
