The footsteps are now on the stairs. Fast. Desperate.
The bedroom door swings open, and there he is—face flushed, hair windblown, chest heaving as if he’s sprinted miles.
He stops midway when he sees the suitcase.
“Mia, what?—”
“Don’t.” I raise a finger. “Please don’t. You’ve made your choice.”
He enters the room anyway, words spilling out before I can build a wall high enough to protect me.
“I did. I choose you. Every day, every time. What are you talking about?”
“Stop right there.” He does. I laugh—a small, shattered sound. “You ran afterher. You saw her, and you ran afterher.”
“It wasn’t her,” he says, voice almost breaking. “It wasn’t Blake.”
“Do you think that matters? Or makes it any less awful? You thought it was. And you left me behind to run after her.” Fresh tears burn, making me angrier, pushing reason further away.
“No.” He pauses, eyes desperate. “I know that’s how it might’ve sounded like. And looked like.” He rakes a hand through his hair, pacing. “I won’t pretend I know how that felt. I didn’t have time to explain, Mia, but I wasn’t runningafterher.”
I throw my head back and laugh, the sound manic and condescending. He says it with unblinking certainty, as though I didn’t watch him bolt.
“Sure looked like it from where I was standing. Alone.”
“I was running after mydivorce papers. I was running afterLily’s half-brother.”
Everything in me misfires. Humor gone, anger paused.
Oh, fuck. The note Blake left—the baby isn’t yours—it surges back, a ghost I forgot to fear. The boy who shares Lily’s blood.
“Oh.” Heat spikes behind my eyes for a completely different reason. “Oh, God. I didn’t even?—”
He takes a step closer, then rethinks, staying put. His eyes are wet and wild. “Mia, I didn’t go after her. I went after what she owes Lily. After the life I want with you.”
Compassion grapples with the instinct to protect myself.
“I’ve been working with Liam’s lawyers for weeks,” he says, softer now. “We can finish it without her, but if she’s found and signs the papers, it’s clean. Faster. I wasn’t chasing her, I swear, Mia. I was trying to end her part in my life. I was choosing us. I’ll always choose us.”
I’m exhausted, heavy bones pinning me to bed. Something in me gives. The ache knots with hope. I owe it to us to figure this out. To talk it out, at least.
“Then why didn’t you tell me?” My voice cracks. “Why just run?”
“I wasn’t thinking clearly,” he says. “I saw a chance and took it. I thought if I could fix everything before it reached you, I could spare you… this. This mess isn’t a part of the life I promised you.” There’s a big exhale before he continues. “I should’ve grabbed your hand and pulled you with me. Explained everything while we ran together.”
He drops to his knees, keeping that careful distance, his palms open. “I’m so sorry. For making you doubt. For making you relive that kind of fear. I hate that someone taught you that love runs when it gets hard.”
I want to stay angry, but his voice, God, his voice, it keeps shaking.
“You asked me to trust you,” I whisper. “And I did. But now…”
“Nothing’s changed.” He’s firm, but a tinge of despair clings to the edges. “I’m here, telling you the truth, as always. I was in an impossible situation, and I handled it badly. While I was running, all I could think was,this is it. I’ll have my divorce, and I get to marry the woman I love.” A half smile tugs at one corner of his mouth; hope wobbles there. He inhales, lifts his head, eyes locked on mine. “Youcan trust me, Mia. And I’ll spend every day proving you’re right to.”
The quiet hums. Fragile, trembling.
His apology hangs between us, too raw to sidestep. Every unscripted word vibrates through the room.
Truth is, I believe him. Of course I do. This man has never done me wrong.
