“Of loving you,” I whisper. The words spill out then, unstoppable. “I was furious with you for leaving. For breaking my heart and walking away like I meant nothing. And when I found out I was pregnant, I didn’t know how to reconcile that pain with the idea of letting you back in. I thought if I told you, you’d either hate me or leave again. And I didn’t know which would hurt more.”
He finally looks at me. His expression isn’t angry now. It’s grief-stricken.
“I wanted to tell you,” I continue, tears streaming freely. “After seeing you with Riley, it was eating me alive. Every day I thought, ‘Today is the day.’ And then I’d imagine the look on your face when you realized what I’d taken from you, and I’d freeze. The damage is already done. I know that. If I could go back, I’d do it differently. But I can’t.”
He stays silent, and the quiet stretches painfully thin.
“I understand if you want to stick to the agreement,” I say softly. “You moved on. You loved someone else. You lost her. I know what Genevieve meant to you, and I wouldn’t ask you to choose me after that. Especially not after what I kept from you.” The words hurt to say, but they’re honest. “For what it’s worth,” I add, my voice trembling, “this never felt fake to me. Not even in the beginning. The truth is, I think I never really got my heart back after giving it to you the first time.”
For a terrible, suspended moment, I’m sure he’s going to agree. That he’ll nod and say this was all a big mistake, that we should let it end here.
Instead, he laughs once, breathless and broken. “You think I moved on?” he says quietly.
I blink.
“This” —he gestures between us— “has been torture. Being near you. Touching you. Knowing you weren’t mine to keep.”
My heart lurches.
“I loved Genevieve,” he says, and his voice softens. “I always will. She was the first thing I ever chose for myself. And losing her nearly destroyed me.”
He steps closer, close enough that I can feel the heat of him again.
“But what she taught me,” he continues, “is that the things you love are worth fighting for. And I didn’t do that with you. I was too young. Too blind. I walked away from you when I should have held on.”
My breath catches.
“I gave my heart to you back then,” he says. “I just didn’t realize it until it was too late. And I’ve been screwing things up ever since.” His hand comes up, hesitant, brushing my cheek with his thumb. “If you’re willing,” he says, voice rough, “I want another chance—to be better. I want to be a worthy father. A good husband. I want to be the man you deserve.”
Joy detonates inside me, bright and overwhelming.
“Yes,” I sob, a laugh breaking through my tears. “God, yes. I want that too.”
Relief floods his face, something like disbelief flickering there too. He pulls me into his arms, crushing me against his chest, and for the first time since this madness began, I let myself believe we might actually be okay.
I pull back just enough to look up at him.
“There’s something else,” I say, my heart racing.
He stiffens slightly. “What?”
I take a breath. “You’re going to be a father again.”
For a heartbeat, he just stares at me. Then understanding dawns.
“Again…” he repeats, wonder threading through the word.
I nod, tears spilling over again. “I didn’t plan it. I didn’t even realize until just recently. But… yes.”
He makes a sound I’ve never heard before, something between a laugh and a sob, and then he’s kissing me—deep and fierce and reverent all at once, like he’s trying to pour every emotion he’s feeling into that one connection.
Riley clears her throat loudly from behind us. “Hey,” she says. “I want a kiss too.”
Raf laughs, pulling back, and then he scoops her into his arms so we can both press kisses to her cheeks at the same time. She giggles, delighted, and something settles into place inside me so gently, it almost hurts.
This is it. This is our family. My whole world.
Relief and joy overwhelm me to know that everything turned out in the end.
