Knox fumbles for the diaper bag, taking Juliette’s cue, but he keeps glancing at the twins with awe, like he can’t believe they’re real. Knox and Juliette have always moved together in a seamless rhythm. They have the kind of partnership I’ve always dreamed of.
I keep telling myself I’m fine with how things worked out…or rather, with how they didn’t. But tonight, with the twins’ sleepy faces pressed against Juliette’s shoulders, the ache sneaks back in.
My last relationship fizzled in a slow, painful way. We’d been together for a year when I eventually had the doctor’s visit that gave me all the answers I didn’t want to hear. I told him about the numbers and the odds. He tried to act like it didn’t matter, but the shift in our relationship was palpable. Date nights turned into takeaway and TV. His hand, once always in mine, became a casual brush on the shoulder, then nothing at all. I knew he was running the risk calculations in his head, weighing a relationship with me against the big family he’d mapped out for himself. I wasn’t the safe choice anymore.
When he finally left, it was with a sheepish apology, some half-hearted line aboutdifferent futures. I remember standing in the doorway after he drove off, feeling stupid for being surprised. I’d seen the retreat happening in real time.
What stung most wasn’t losing him. It was the way he’dlooked at me near the end, as though I was already a disappointment.
Since then, romance has felt like walking barefoot over thin ice. I’ve gotten into the habit of pretending I’m not listening for cracks, but they always eventually make themselves known.
We say our goodbyes before Juliette wrangles the twins into their coats. Knox lingers with her by the door, holding it open as a bitter wind snakes in. I watch them bundle the girls into the car with their tiny hats pulled down over their ears, identical chubby faces peeking out from around fleece. They wave, headlights swinging past the café windows as they drive off.
Inside, it’s just the three of us. Callan’s stacking chairs, and Bree is scrubbing down the tables with a vengeance. I’m gathering sticky spatulas and empty sprinkle jars when Bree sidles up beside me.
“All right, spill,” she whispers. “You spent the whole night giving googly eyes to some guy.”
I freeze, every muscle in my body locking up as I scramble to mask the rush of heat flooding my face. I know exactly who she means, but I’m not about to admit it. “Which guy? I chatted with a lot of people tonight.”
“You can’t fool me, Lucy.” Bree smirks, folding her arms as she raises a brow. “I could tell you were getting all flustered from across the room.”
“I was not!” I protest, but even I can hear the faint crack in my voice.
She shoots me a knowing look. “Uh-huh, and I’m the Queen of Scotland.”
I groan, grabbing the nearest trash bag and pretending to focus on something, anything, to avoid her amused stare.
Bree leans in closer, her grin growing wider. “You know, Cal and I could do some recon for you. Figure out what Mr.Tall, Dark, and Grumpy actually likes, besides brooding in corners. See if he’s single?”
Of course she lands the one question I absolutely amnotasking. Not out loud, anyway. Inside, I’ve been pathetically wondering if he’s married or not. I’m not giving Bree and Callan that kind of ammunition.
Callan flashes a wicked grin, playing along. “Plot twist: He loves puppies and long walks on the beach.”
“Goodnight!” I blurt, tossing the trash bag over my shoulder with far more force than necessary. “I’m going home before this turns into an actual roast.”
Bree waves innocently. “Fine, fine. But we’re not done with this conversation, you smitten kitten!”
They’re ridiculous, but unfortunately, they’re also not wrong. That’s what makes it even worse.
seven
AIDAN
“That was so much fun.” Isla’s sleepy voice drifts through the quiet room, her face still lit with the excitement from the night, even if the rest of her is sinking into the softness of the covers. She’s got her stuffed bunny clutched tight against her chest.
“Yeah?” I drop onto the edge of her bed, brushing a loose curl from her face. “You had fun decorating cookies, huh?”
“Mmhmm.” She nods, her curls bouncing with the motion. “And Lucy said mine was the prettiest one she’d ever seen. Did you see her smile, Daddy? She has a really pretty smile.”
I grunt, feeling that tightness in my chest. “Yeah, she seems nice,” I mutter, hoping that’s enough to shut this down.
“Daddy,” she whines, dragging the word out in that singsong tone that means I’m not getting off easy. “Can we go back again soon? Please?”
I hesitate, my gaze shifting to the small window. “We’ll see,” I finally say, standing up and tucking the blankets tighteraround her.
“Good night, Daddy,” she mumbles, eyes already drifting shut.
“Night, love,” I whisper, flicking off the light and easing the door shut behind me.
