I glance down at Nicholas, who’s blinking awake, his eyes unfocused and enormous while I feed his brother. “You think he’d want this? He knows all the responsibilities that come with being a parent. He’s gone through them. It wouldn’t be like dating a guy who doesn’t know what’s involved. If he wants a second chance at raising kids…God, Liv, that’d be it. Nomore dating anyone else for either of us. No freedom. Total commitment.”
“You’re smiling when you said all of that. Are you aware?”
“Shut up.”
“I think,” Olivia says carefully, “that a man who feeds a stray dog soup might not run from a second fatherhood.”
I swallow. That image hits too hard.
Damian in this apartment. Holding one of them. Choosing to stay with us. Choosing this life. Choosing me.
That’s just…terrifying. No matter how many butterflies are dipping around my stomach, or how warm my chest feels at the thought of it. We basically just met. How could I possibly want him in my life forever?
Why doesn’t that word scare me right now? The hell is that about? It always used to. The guys before Damian and the word “forever” did not mix. But he makes forever not sound like hell.
It might even sound good.
“Or,” Olivia adds gently, “he might lose his mind, freak out, dump you, and try to run to Belize. You won’t know until you tell him.”
“Gee, thanks for that thought.” I sit on the couch, one twin in each arm now, feeling the weight of them. The absolute, irreversible weight.
She shrugs and pours herself some coffee. “Between the two of us, you’ve always been the brave one. It’s weird to see you be so cautious, Perry.”
“I have more than me to think about now, Liv.”
She nods and sits next to me. “And you’ve been doing a hell of a job, thinking about the boys. But this is for them too.”
“That’s the worst part of all of it.”
“What’s that?”
“You know my relationship with my father. My nonexistent relationship with that sperm donor, I mean.” I sigh. “But Damian’s not like my dad. He’s a good man who wishes he could have done better with his first son.”
“He told you that?”
I nod. “It’s so weird to be on this side of parenthood. I keep thinking about my boys’ relationship with their dad, and how they don’t have one yet. It’s okay for now, but in a few months? A few years? They’re going to figure out they’re missing something. They’re owed that, aren’t they? Or at least, the chance of a relationship with him?”
She slowly nods.
“I will tell him,” I say quietly.
“When?”
“When it’s right.”
She raises a brow.
“When I’m brave enough,” I amend.
Olivia softens. “You’re already brave. You always have been. Remember?” The cheeky brat smiles at her self-referential remark.
But I don’t feel brave. I’m balancing a glass sculpture on a tightrope over gasoline while carrying a lit match.
I look at Nicholas. At Walker. At the life I built in one reckless night and carried for nine months and delivered under fluorescent lights.
I can’t keep this secret forever. I won’t. I just need the right moment.
I kiss both their foreheads. “I’m going to tell him.”
