Owen heard it too. His hands stilled on the screwdriver. His eyes met mine.
“That’s Marcus,” I said.
Owen set down his tools. “You want me to?—”
“Stay.” The word came out before I could second-guess it. “Please. I need to handle this, but I want you here.”
He nodded and came to stand beside me, his hand finding mine.
We walked out onto the porch together.
Marcus was already out of the BMW, the door hanging open behind him. He was wearing the charcoal suit—the one he reserved for important meetings. His face was tight with something I couldn’t quite read.
Then he saw Owen. How our hands were joined. How I was leaning into Owen’s shoulder instead of standing apart.
His expression hardened.
“What the hell is this?”
I didn’t flinch. Didn’t drop Owen’s hand. Didn’t do any of the things I would have done six months ago, when Marcus’s disapproval could still make me shrink.
“This is me making a choice,” I said. “I think we need to talk.”
Marcus came up the porch steps, stopping a few feet away. His eyes kept cutting to Owen, like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.
“A choice.” He laughed, humorless. “You’re eight months pregnant with my child, Grace. You don’t get to just?—”
“I get to do exactly what I want,” I said calmly. “That’s what choosing means.”
Owen’s hand tightened on mine.
“And him?” Marcus gestured toward Owen with barely concealed disdain. “The handyman? That’s your choice?”
“Owen is the man I love,” I said evenly. “The man I should have chosen years ago. The man who’s going to help me raise this baby.”
“The hell he is.” Marcus’s voice rose. “I’m the father. I have rights. My lawyer?—”
“Your lawyer can say whatever they want,” I cut in. “But if you want to be part of this baby’s life, you’re going to do it by showing up. Not through threats. Not through legal posturing. Through actually being present.”
Marcus’s jaw worked. I could see him recalculating, the way he always did when a negotiation wasn’t going the way he’d planned.
“I’ve been present,” he said. “I came back?—”
“You came back because Emma left you.”
The words landed clean and sharp. Marcus went still.
“You didn’t come back for the baby,” I continued. “You didn’t come back for me. You came back because your engagement fell apart and I was still here. I was your backup plan. Again. The safe option. The one who would take you back because I always had before.”
“That’s not true. I?—”
“It is,” I said. “You blocked my number, Marcus. Changed your email. Proposed to another woman three weeks after ending an eleven-year relationship.”
He flinched—just slightly, but I saw it.
“You don’t want to be a father,” I said. “You don’t even want me. You just don’t want to be alone.”
Silence stretched between us.
