Sitting across from him now, hearing his calm concern, the understanding of the one man in the world who always knew me best—it finally sinks in. “I kept bracing for you to be angry.”
“Why?”
“Because it could have been yours.”
He’s quiet for a long moment, one large hand wrapped around his mug while the other rests on the table top. The sight of them shouldn’t be such a distraction in the midst of this conversation, but memories—both recent and distant past—keep threatening to resurface of what those hands can do to me. When he speaks, his voice is careful.
“It could have been Wyatt’s too. And honestly? The fact that we don’t know, that we’ll never know—that’s probably for the best.”
“How can you say that?”
“Because I’m the last person who should be responsible for a child right now,” he says simply. “I can barely take care of myself. I’m still putting myself back together after years of being someone else. The idea of being responsible for shaping another human being—” He shakes his head. “That terrifies me more than any cartel boss ever did.”
Wyatt reaches over, covers my hand with his. “All I care about is that you’re okay. That you did what you needed to do to be okay.”
“Are you, though?” Chris asks. “Okay?”
I consider the question seriously. My body is still tender, still recovering. My emotions are a tangle of relief and grief and shame that I can’t quite sort through. The live wire living inside me at their proximity in this moment notwithstanding. But underneath it all, there’s a sense of rightness—the certainty that I made the correct choice, even if it was difficult.
“I’m getting there,” I say finally.
“What do you need from us?” Wyatt asks.
Everything. Nothing. I don’t know.
“Patience,” I say instead. “I know I don’t owe anyone an apology for the choice I made. I know that intellectually. But the shame doesn’t care about logic, and I can’t just switch it off because you two tell me it’s okay.”
They’re both quiet, attentive.
“I’m glad you came,” I add. I look at Chris. “You were right to chase me. Even if the way you did it was?—”
“Misguided,” he supplies.
“I was going to say idiotic, but sure.” A ghost of a smile. Then I turn to Wyatt, and a quieter ache moves through me. “And you—I know you were trying to give me space. But sometimes space is the last thing I need, even when I’m asking for it.”
Wyatt’s jaw tightens, but he nods. “I’ll remember that. But Nina, I wish you’d told me. I knew a little about your childhood, about why you lived with Callie’s family. But I didn’t realize how severe—” He stops, runs a hand through his hair.
“I was going to,” I admit. “When things got more serious. But then Chris came home, and everything got complicated.”
“And you thought I’d try to change your mind?”
“I thought you might want different things than I do.” I pause, the words harder to say than I expected. “Most people want a family, kids. You’re so good with Zoey, so natural with her. I thought eventually you’d want that for yourself. And I wanted to hold onto what we had for as long as I could, because I believed deep down that telling you might be a dealbreaker for us.”
“Nina,” Wyatt says gently. “I want you. However that looks. Whatever that means. Families come in many shapes.”
Chris nods. “Same here.”
“Even knowing that children will never be part of the equation?”
“Especially knowing that,” Chris says. “Because it means you trust us enough to be honest about who you are.”
The words crack something open in my chest. But it’s not just about them. It’s about Callie.
“You know what scares me most?” I say quietly. “It’s not this. It’s not us. It’s Zoey.” My throat constricts. “Callie wants more kids. I know she does—she and Mason have talked about it. And I want that for her. I want to be there for her, the way she’s always been there for me. But the thought of watching her go through pregnancy, of being in the room, of holding her hand—” I press my lips together. “What if I can’t do it? What if my best friend needs me and I’m too broken to show up?”
The silence that follows is different from the others. Heavier. Because this isn’t about romance or guilt or the mess between the three of us. This is about the person who matters most to me in the world, and the fear that I might fail her.
“Then I’ll be in the room with you,” Chris says. “You and me and Callie, same as always. You won’t have to do it alone.”
