“It’s over,” I say softly but clearly. “You need to hear that and accept it. It was over long before Dylan. Long before any of this.”
His mouth opens, shuts. “I just want what we had.”
“You didn’t want what we had when it was in front of you,” I say. The words aren’t cruel—they’re the truth. “You chose other women over me. You chose everything but stability. You moved across the country to live your dream…on your own. And now you want to pretend we’re a tragic love story?” I shake my head. “No. We’re not going back. Move on and be happy with the choices you made. I am.”
He looks punched.
“But I want Chloe,” he says, his voice tighter now.
“You can see her,” I assure him. “Nothing about that changes. But for now, I’d feel better if the visits were in Minnesota…under supervision.”
His face darkens. “Supervised? Are you serious? I can’t always get to Minnesota.”
“If I can make it to California, you can make it to Minnesota. Make the effort and put your daughter first. You’ll have to figure out a way.”
“We’ll see about that. My lawyer will be contacting yours, if you choose to go this route.”
Dylan clears his throat softly. “There’s someone we can talk to,” he says to me, low enough that Christian can hear but not interpret it as a threat. “Goldie knows a judge in Landmark Mountain, Colorado—good guy. He’s helped people she trusts. If he can’t take it himself, he can recommend the right lawyer.”
Christian scoffs. “This is ridiculous. You can’t just cut me out.”
“I’m not. But visitation is on my terms for now.” My voice steadies. “If you come to Minnesota, you can see Chloe. But I’m not traveling to California unless I choose to. You don’t get to summon us whenever you choose.”
His eyes soften just slightly. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “For calling your dad.”
I nod once to acknowledge it.
He finally steps back, hands falling to his sides. “I still love you,” he whispers.
I swallow. “Then love me enough to let me go.”
He looks at Dylan, then at me again, and folds. Without another word, he climbs into his car and drives off.
The moment he’s gone, I start shaking. Dylan touches the small of my back, gentle, grounding.
“You okay?” he murmurs.
“No,” I admit. “But I will be.”
He pulls me against him, and I breathe in his calm.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
PIVOT
DYLAN
The three of us are tangled together under the big white duvet, the sun falling across our legs from the window. Dahlia’s head is on my chest, her dark hair spilling everywhere, and Chloe is starfished between us, one tiny foot jammed against my ribs, snoring like a little bulldog. It doesn’t matter. I slept so hard that for the first few seconds that I’m awake, I forget all the drama we’ve been enduring.
When I glance at my nightstand, the clock says we’ve been out for almost three hours. Chloe’s still dead to the world. Dahlia stirs, stretches, and gives me a sleepy smile when she sees me watching her.
“Hi,” she whispers.
“Hi,” I whisper back, brushing hair from her face.
Chloe’s head pops up like toast. “I hungry!”
We laugh, because of course she is. She wakes up ready to eat before she’s barely opened her eyes. Dahlia says she’s always been like that.
