My phone buzzes.
Naomi:How's the hot guy situation?
Me:There's no situation.
Naomi:You're a terrible liar. I literally saw him there yesterday. So yeah. Situation.
I stare at the message, not sure how to respond. Not sure how to explain that this isn't a situation—it's torture. It's wanting something I can't have and having it shoved in my face every single day.
Me:We're just friends.
Naomi:If you say so. But Zo? Friends don't look at each other the way you two do.
I lock the phone, pressing it against my forehead.
She's right. Naomi's always right about this stuff. But being right doesn't change reality, doesn't make this any less impossible.
Twenty minuteslater I emerge from the office to find Declan manning the register like he works here, Maeve asleep against his shoulder. He's just finished ringing up a customer—an older woman who's smiling at him like he hung the moon.
"Thank you so much, dear. You're very good with that baby."
"She makes it easy." He hands over her bag, then notices me. "Hey. Feel better?"
"I didn't feel bad."
"Liar." He adjusts Maeve carefully. "But you look less like you're about to collapse, so I'll take it."
The customer leaves. I move behind the counter, reaching for Maeve. "I can take her now."
"She's fine where she is." He shifts, keeping her secure. "Why don't you actually take a lunch break? I can watch the store."
"You can't just—you have your own job. Your own life."
"My life is flexible." He meets my eyes, and it reminds me that I know far too many of his secrets. That he knows so many of mine. "And right now I want to be here."
"Why?" The question bursts out before I can stop it. "Why are you doing this? Showing up every day, bringing food, holding Maeve, acting like—like this is normal?"
"Because I care about you."
"You keep saying we're friends," I snap, feeling defensive. He's getting too close, and I'm too tired. I can't do this. I can't let him in. "Friends don't do this. This is—" I gesture helplessly between us. "This is something else and we can't be something else."
His expression doesn't change. "Why not?"
Because I'm broken. Because you deserve better. Because I already destroyed us once and I can't do it again.
"Because nothing's changed." My voice cracks. "I'm still the same person I was. Still?—"
I can't say it. Can't force the words past my lips.
"Still what?"
"Sterile." The word tastes like ash. "I'm still sterile, Declan. Still can't give you what you need. What you—what anyone would want."
I wait for him to flinch. To pull back. To finally show me the truth—that he came back because he thought maybe things had changed, maybe I'd somehow been fixed.
It's something that's been circling in my mind. Declan conveniently showed up right after I got custody of Maeve. After he supposedly saw me with her. I've always wondered if he let me go because it did solve all his issues, if he only showed back up now because he thought I somehow found a way to have a child.
If he only wants me because he thinks I'm not broken.
