“Because no one should be without the woman he loves.”

“You love Miranda,” I say when it dawns on me.

“I meant my brother.”

“Oh.”

“You do love him too. Don’t you?”

“Is he all right?” I clutch the receiver tighter and hold my breath while I wait for his answer.

“Ha. Better than ever. He said I did him a favor. I should be a good dad like he was to me.”

“So it’s yours?”

“I suspect it is. But we’ll make sure. Even then…” he trails off.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He repeats, “You do love my brother, don’t you?”

“Always,” I croak.

“Good. I hope you two spend the rest of your lives proving it to each other.”

He hangs up, leaving me buzzing in hope over his words as Sara texts.

Are you okay? You left and everyone was gone but Christos—he said he was staying until all the guests were gone. Becka and I offered to help.

Yes, it’s just…I’m okay, I text.

This whole thing with the baby has really made me realize how deeply, how completely I love him. I just want it all, him in any way, even with baggage and with anything else.

I curl my legs underneath me as I sit on the couch and stare at Christos’s contact.

I want to thank him for staying to make sure things went smoothly, for safekeeping my business for me when I should have maybe stayed too.

I lost it tonight. What I asked of him was selfish of me to ask, but I keep thinking: this is one chance.

We have just this one chance.

And he chose me. He looked at me and those eyes were clearly saying, he chooses me.

Oh god. Nervous about how his talk with Miranda will go, I stare at my phone. I want to call him and ask how he is, but I also want to give him space.

I need to walk. Clear my head. So I head to Washington Square Park. It’s isolated at night, and all lit up. The arch, the fountain, the water, it always makes me feel better. At 11 a.m. the dog park is full of dogs, but tonight at 11 p.m. it’s vacant.

“Pretty nice all lit up. Isn’t it?”

I flip around, startled to see Aaric standing there. As real as real gets, and as gorgeous as he was an hour ago.

“What are you doing here? How did you find me?” I ask, breathless.

He raises his hand. “Find my friends.” He shows me his phone. “Or should I say, Find the love of my life.”

“You don’t believe in that.”

“Yes, I do. But I found her too early. Too easy. Maybe sooner than she was ready. Sooner than I was ready.”

There’s a soft sound—the sound of me sharply inhaling my breath as he comes to stand next to me. To watch the fountain, next to me.

The familiar feel of his body heat envelops me. It fills me with such acute longing I need to bite down desperately on my lips while I try to remember to breathe.

“She’s getting tested as soon as she can,” he says.

My heart is starting to pound as he reaches out to hook his index finger with mine. He runs his thumb along my hand, his voice low and tender.

“You were right. This has been so hard because the truth I’ve been trying to accept is wrong. It doesn’t matter if I have a child with someone else as long as I want you, love you.

“This issue with Miranda has felt so painful because it’s wrong. Because we could do this, Bryn. You and I. Because this is our only second chance. Our last chance.” He takes me by the shoulders and turns me around to face him—his eyes a dark, vivid gold and raw with emotion.

“Anything keeping me away from you is wrong. My fears or yours. My desires for a family even when you can give me one. We sometimes don’t get the family we choose, even the kids we have, or how they sometimes come. But you choose who you marry. Who you spend your life with. And I very,” he emphasizes meaningfully, “desperately want it to be you.”

He shakes his head slowly. “No family can be happy if the father is miserable. I would want my child to be proud of me, knowing I did the right thing and not hurt the girl I’ve always loved.” He cups my face. “I want a family. I want it with you. The woman I lo—”

Anxious, I quiet him with my finger, pressing it to his lips. Then I quickly, almost frantically, rise up on tiptoe, pressing my mouth to my thumb and kissing it. I drop my thumb, and then I’m kissing him because in the midst of all the what ifs, sometimes you need to make a choice.

He takes control and lifts me up, kissing me thoroughly.

A couple of tears slip out, sliding down my cheeks as I smile against his mouth. “Don’t cry,” he says.

“I’m happy. They’re happy tears.”

“Then I won’t mind seeing more of that.”

A tender look sweeps into his eyes as he drinks me in, dries my eyes as if he won’t ever have me cry again, and he leans down and kisses me some more.

“You look gorgeous.” He eyes my dress, when he eases back to let me catch a breath.

“This old thing?” I tease.

He smiles.

“Amazing what the right clothes do for a woman even when she feels like shit,” I admit.

“Amazing what the right woman does for a man even when things go to shit.”

He brushes my mouth, hungry, as he nuzzles me.

“Always had a thing for your nose,” I breathe.

“Really.”

“Hmm. Lots of character.” I nuzzle him.

“Big as shit.”

“Yes.”

“All the more to smell you better.”