He looks at me, one arm stretched along the seat, his expression unreadable in the dark. “I’m an open book. You can ask me anything.”
A laugh slips out of me before I can stop it. “Anything?”
“Yes.”
I study him for a second. “Okay. Have you ever been married before?”
His expression doesn’t change. “I was engaged once.”
Something in his tone makes me go still.
“She died,” he says, flat and unflinching. “After that, I never felt much like dating again.”
A knot forms in my chest. “I’m so sorry.”
One shoulder lifts in a careless shrug that doesn’t quite hidethe shadow in his eyes. “It is what it is. I found out later she was cheating on me, so maybe it was for the best.”
I stare at him. “That doesn’t make it hurt less.”
“No,” he says quietly. “It doesn’t.”
The car falls silent for a beat, heavy with all the things neither of us says.
“Do you want kids?” I ask softly.
“I do.” He turns his head, looking at me more directly now. “What about you?”
That draws a small laugh from me, though it catches on something tender inside my chest. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead. But the second I found out I was pregnant, I knew I wanted to keep the baby.”
His gaze lingers on me, thoughtful, almost too intent. “Do you want to find out the gender?”
I shake my head. “No. I want it to be a surprise.”
The faintest smile touches his mouth. “Titi Teresa always says it’s life’s only real surprise.”
I smile back. “She’s a wise woman.”
“She is.”
I hesitate, then glance down at my hands. “Will she know about our arrangement?”
His answer comes too quickly, like he’s already thought it through. “I’d prefer if she didn’t.”
I look back at him.
“She likes you,” he says. “And I want her to die believing I found love.”
A sharp, quiet ache pulls through my chest.
I hold his gaze. “You know you deserve love.”
That earns me a laugh, low and humorless.
“Not for me,” he says.
There’s no bitterness in it. No self-pity. Just certainty. And somehow, that makes it worse.
He parks the car and turns to me.
