“No,” he said quietly. “I’m not.”
It should have hurt. Eleven years. A baby on the way. It should have devastated me.
Instead, something loosened in my chest.
Relief.
“Thank you,” I said. “For being honest.”
He blinked. “You’re thanking me?”
“For not making me fight you. For not making this child grow up with a father who shows up out of obligation instead of love.” I took a breath. “For letting her have something better.”
Marcus glanced at Owen.
“He’s going to be a better father than I would have been,” Marcus said. Not bitter. Just true.
“Yes,” I said. “He is.”
Marcus handed the folder back to me.
“I’ll set up a trust,” he said. “For her future. College, whatever she needs. And if she ever wants to know me—when she’s older, when she can understand?—”
“The door will be open,” I said. “But you’ll have to walk through it yourself.”
“Okay.”
He stepped forward and pulled me into a hug.
It wasn’t romantic. Or desperate. Just the embrace of two people who had shared eleven years and were finally letting go.
“I’m sorry, Grace,” he said quietly. “For all of it.”
“I know.”
He kissed my forehead.
“You’re going to be an incredible mother,” he said. “And she’s lucky. To have you. To have him.” He glanced at Owen. “Take care of them.”
Owen nodded. “I will.”
Marcus looked at me one last time. “Be happy, Grace. You deserve it.”
Then he turned and walked back to his car.
I didn’t watch the BMW disappear.
I didn’t need to.
I’d already let him go.
Owen’s arms wrapped around me from behind. I leaned into him, letting him take some of my weight.
“You okay?” he asked.
I considered it.
“Yeah,” I said. “I think I am.”
