When I look at him, his jaw tightens.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt out. “A few days ago, I thought you were the bad guy. I’m not entirely sure how it all happened the way it did, but I know from the sheer look on your face that I was wrong. I know I hurt you. I hate that I let my fears dictate what I thought about you that morning I left. I hate that I didn’t have the courage to tell you about the pregnancy myself. I hate that I trusted Aaron with the most important phone call of my life. I hate that I didn’t give us a chance. But mostly, I really hate that the first moment you saw her was like … that.”
His expression shifts; anger still lingers, but there’s something softer underneath.
“I didn’t come here to fight.” I hang my head. “You didn’t answer my text, and I just needed to see you. I …” I swallow,knowing that I’ve had too much to drink and I’m laying myself bare, but I don’t care. “I needed to be with you.”
I hear him exhale slowly, long and controlled, like he’s forcing the air out of his lungs. His shoulders rise and fall with it, and his jaw shifts to the side, muscle ticcing, but his eyes never leave mine.
Like everything, he’s thinking is pressing against the inside of his ribs, and he’s determined not to let it spill out too fast.
“You showing up here tipsy and in this tiny dress isn’t exactly helping.”
I blink up at him. “You like my dress?” My teeth skim my bottom lip as I look up at him. “That’s good to know because it’s my birthday, and I’m pretty sure bad decisions are allowed.”
“It’s your birthday?” he asks, surprised.
I look up at him and nod.
He looks away from me, dragging in a deep breath through his nose. When he finally looks back at me, his eyes are darker. Focused. No longer surprised—just intensely aware.
“Come inside,” he says quietly.
I walk in and look around. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it’s clean and simple. And then I see them on the counter. The ornaments we got from the street vendor from our night together.
I pick up the apple ornament, letting it spin on the string.
“You kept these?”
He doesn’t answer right away, so I look up at him, still holding the ornament like it’s a prize. His hands are on his hips, and his head is down.
“You had a souvenir from that night. These are mine.”
He walks past me toward the couch and sits down heavily.
I stay where I am, not really sure where to go.
“A few days ago, you might have thought I was the bad guy, but a few days ago, I was still reeling from losing the woman ofmy dreams. I’d been thinking about you, wondering where you’d been. The last thing I’d have ever believed was that you had my baby. So, although you showed up here, looking like sin in a dress … I can’t stop thinking about what I missed. Two years, Alie.” He leans forward and props his elbows on his knees. “I missed two years.”
My chest tightens. “I know.”
“I should have been there.”
I set the ornament down and take a step toward him. “I know.”
“I don’t even know what her favorite food is. Or her favorite color. What makes her happy … ”
My throat tightens, thick and sudden. “Strawberries and dinosaur mac n’ cheese. Her favorite color is blue, but she always asks for things that are pink.”
He lets out a shaky breath. “I’m so fucking angry with you, Alie.”
“I know.”
“But I’m also”—he pauses—“fucking terrified.”
“Of what?”
“How much I already care for a little girl I don’t even know.”
