Page 82 of A Song for Another Woman

“You’re…” He can’t finish it.

“Yes.”

“How long?”

“Almost five months.”

The sound he makes isn't a word, and I flinch anyway. He sees it and straightens with effort, dragging air into his chest like it has weight.

“Are you okay?”

The question hits me so hard I almost fold. Nothow could you, notwhy didn’t you tell me.

Are you okay?

I nod, crying too hard to make it dignified. “Yes. The baby’s okay too.”

“The baby,” he says, his hand pressing flat to his chest.

Then he laughs once, broken and wet. He turns away for half a second, one hand braced on the counter. When he looks back at me, his face is ruined and open, joy and grief all mixed together until neither one can stand without the other.

“Emmy,” he whispers. “Honey.”

“I didn’t tell you,” I say. “On purpose.”

He nods immediately, even though the tears keep falling. “Okay.”

“No, listen to me.”

“I’m listening.”

“I found out after I left. June knew, but nobody else.” My hand curves tighter around my belly. “I wanted to tell you. I almost did a hundred times. But I couldn’t bear it if you came back because of this.”

Pain crosses his face.

“I couldn’t survive being chosen out of obligation,” I say. “Not after all of that. Not after spending two years feeling like the thing in your way. I needed to know you came back for me. Not because I was carrying your child, and not because you were a good man who’d do the right thing once the right thing had a heartbeat.”

His eyes drop again to my stomach, then back to my face. “I hate that you carried it alone. I hate every minute I wasn’t there. I hate that I made telling me feel dangerous.”

My knees feel weak.

“I would’ve come,” he says. “If you’d told me, I would’ve come so fast I’d have torn the road up. But I understand why that scared you.”

The baby shifts then. Not imagined, but a small, rolling pressure under my palm.

My breath catches, and Cade sees it. His whole face changes.

“What?” he asks, almost afraid.

I look down at my hand. “He moved,” I whisper. Then I laugh through tears because I don’t know if it’s a he, and because June keeps telling me I’m going to ruin the surprise for myself by deciding too early. “Or she. The baby moved.”

Cade’s lips part.

“Can I…” His voice fails. He clears it and tries again. “Can I come closer?”

That almost breaks me worse than if he’d asked to touch. “Yes.”

He crosses the distance slowly. When he reaches me, he stops with inches between us, waiting again. I take his wrist and guide his hand to the place where mine rests.