Page 41 of Everything But Mine

“No? What’s it like, then?”

I glance at Diego. He’s watching quietly. No smirk. No rescue. “She told you. I am her person. She is mine. It may not make sense to you, but it does to us.”

She nods. “You’re her person. And which of your needs does being her person fulfill for you, Eric?”

I flinch. And she sees it. Of course she does. But my needs are not for her to know. They’re not even for Amanda to know. I’m more than my failures.

Val’s voice is softer now. Still precise. “Do you think your needs are different from Daray’s? More noble? Worthy?”

Amanda’s mouth is open on the periphery of my vision. Diego places a hand on her shoulder and shakes his head to stop her. I need to fight my own battles.

“You’re building a life raft out of guilt,” she says. “Newsflash. Martyrdom sinks ships. You think this—this sacrifice shows your growth. Obligation is familiar, but wanting something? That terrifies you.”

My mouth is dry. There’s something burning behind my eyes. “You don’t think I’m doing this for me. You think I feel obligated.”

“We all do what we do, primarily for ourselves. We are all selfish at our core.” Val sips some wine, as if she isn’t trying to rip me open at the seams on purpose. “I think you don’t know how to separate care from self-erasure. And I think you don’t believe you’re allowed to want anything for yourself unless it hurts. Until you allow yourself to want things, people, you will hurt them. In your mind, that’s the only way you can have them.”

Anger and shame tangle inside me, pounding against my ribs until it’s hard to breathe. I’m exposed—this is what I battle inside of me. This constant buzz under my skin that I don’t deserve good things. But that’s not the reason I want to raise the child with Amanda. Obligation has never been what’s pulled me to her. Amanda carries tension in her shoulders, but she’s not jumping in. Neither is Diego. They’re still trusting I can hold my own against Val.

“You’re wrong,” I say through clenched teeth, fighting the urge to yell. “Hurting Amanda. That’s what it all comes down to, right? What I did three years ago? How that hurt her? That’s between Amanda and me. It’s none of your business, Val.” I stand up slowly. “What I will say is, I want this kid because it’s Amanda’s. Because I don’t fucking trust Daray. He’ll forget birthdays. I won’t. He won’t even sign checks. I’ll be more than a bank account to both of them. I want to be more for them. My reasons are my own and Amanda’s. Her reasons for accepting are Amanda’s and mine. We both want this, so we’re raising our baby together. Get on board or shut up.”

With that, I leave the table to step out onto the balcony. The sliding door clicks shut behind me, muting the low thrum of voices inside. Amanda and Val need space, and I need air. I plant both hands on the railing, chips of old paint stick to my palms.

A minute later, Diego joins me, holding two beers like we’re about to watch a game instead of unpacking the biggest decision I’ve ever made.

“Peace offering,” he says, handing me one. “Or last rites. Either way, you’ve earned it.”

I take it. “You think she’s going to backtrack?”

He cracks his open with the edge of the railing. “Val? No fucking way. Amanda? She won’t.”

I grunt. “Val was two seconds from drafting a court order to have me removed.”

“She still might,” he says with a shrug. “But you got through the meal, so I’d call it a win.”

We stand here for a second, shoulder to shoulder, the hum of the city below adding texture to our silence.

“I meant what I said in there,” I twist the cap open and bring the bottle to my lips, but don’t sip. “This isn’t a play for her. I want this. I want to raise this kid with her, however that ends up looking.”

Diego nods. “I know.”

“That’s it?”

He sips. “What, you want a standing ovation?”

I shake my head, smiling in spite of myself. “I just don’t want to screw this up.”

He leans in slightly, voice low. “Then don’t. And when you start to spiral—because you will—I’ll be there. I’ll slap you out of it and remind you she didn’t ask you to be perfect. She just wants you to show up.”

I stare at the horizon, bottle loose in my grip.

“I still feel like I’m pretending.”

Diego scoffs. “Yeah, well, fake it louder. That’s how everyone learns anything worth a damn.”

I glance over. “You sound like a motivational speaker.”

He grins. “Please. I curse too much, and my humor’s too fucked up. But I am proud of you.”