“Now that he’s made a name for himself in the NFL, he wants her. It’s just convenient—don’t you think?”
Tap.
“Is that the kind of guy you want around your daughter? When it fits into his timeline? When it fits around football?” Aaron challenges.
Tap.
Doubt flickers again—sharper now.
Tiny. Unwanted.
But louder.
I think of contracts. Trades. Injuries. Headlines. The way the season swallows him whole. The way I’ve already learned what it feels like to be left.
“He’s charming,” he continues. “He knows how to win people over. He’s good at saying what you want to hear.”
Tap.
My chest tightens.
“That’s not fair.”
“What’s not fair is that I was the one who was there. I stayed.” His voice softens now. “I was here. Not him.”
And that one lands deeper.
Because it’s true. He was here. He held Sera when she cried at two in the morning. He drove us to appointments. He assembled cribs and stayed when I was unraveling.
Guilt creeps in like a slow fog.
“You’re angry because he’s here,” I say quietly.
“I’m angry because I built something with you,” he says, stepping closer again. “And you let him walk in and take it.”
“I never promised you anything. We aren’t a couple.”
“You didn’t have to.”
The room suddenly feels too small.
“He’s going to leave when his contract is up,” Aaron says firmly. “Football will always come first.”
“That’s not true.” But my voice lacks conviction.
“Isn’t it?” he presses. “Where is he now?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Aaron. You know he’s at mandatory camp.”
“Exactly. He’s gone.”
The voice of doubt starts to creep in again, getting louder, and I’m trying to push it back, but I can’t block out what he’s saying. How it hits every wound I gained that night and let it fester over the last two years. I hate it. I hate that I’m giving him power like this.
“He calls every night.”
“And when the season starts, and he’s gone half the time? You think that won’t affect her?”
I have nothing to say about that because, again, he’s not wrong. Liam will be gone a lot, and Sera will miss him.
