Page 19

Sniffling, I pull back. I don’t have the energy to apologize for the wet stain I’ve left on his blue t-shirt as I drop weakly to his sofa.

Wood moans as Tate sits on his coffee table in front of me. “We’ve been spending time together. Enough that my mom has mentioned it, and I know your parents have noticed.”

I sniffle again. “They have.”

But they haven’t said anything to me. They just watch me with worried eyes and disappointment.

I peek up at Tate. “Elise mentioned it to you?”

Tate swallows hard as he croaks, “Yeah.”

“What did she say?”

He smiles, but it’s one of those pained one’s people give so they don’t grimace.

I feel myself tense in preparation.

“She told me I’m walking on thin ice. To be careful.”

“Oh God,” I cry, dropping my face into my hands.

“Hey.” Tate catches my wrists, pulling them from my face and forcing me to meet his eyes. They’re so green. So good and so green as they strive to see into me.

He’s a good man, I think. Probably one of the best men to be willing to do what he’s willing to do now for his brother’s child, so that very brother can chase every shard of fame he’s ever imagined chasing.

“We knew this would be hard. And we know we have to move quickly. It’s not like we can wait a few months before we tell people we got together, or everyone would know the baby isn’t mine.”

I feel like the air around me is thin. No matter how many breaths I suck into my starved lungs, I fail to feel like I have enough.

I think I might pass out.

Black flickers at the edge of my vision.

I gasp, “Tate.”

“You can change your mind, Faye. At any moment, you can change your mind. Whatever you choose to do, I need you to know that I’ll support you.”

I gulp down another sob, refusing to break down yet again. “Why?”

He smiles again. It’s soft and sad—but real. “Because he loves you.”

My heart aches.

Tate’s thumbs begin to drift slowly over my wrists. The feel of rough against soft grounds me in a way I don’t expect. I’m not sure how long we sit like this, his thumbs moving over my wrists. It’s long enough to steady myself, if only a little.

Until I see the pink quarts promise ring Holt gave me. It sits on my ring finger, the only glue holding the shards of a shattered promise.

I don’t cry as I pull my hands from Tate’s grip to pull the ring from my finger. I just slide it quietly onto my other hand before I look up to Tate again.

His eyes, the green of the softest sea glass, are fixed to my now naked ring finger.

I wonder if this reality we face has finally settled for him as it’s settled for me. I wonder if this is the moment where sense returns to him, and he tells me I’m on my own.

I feel both dread and hope at the prospect.

Dread because I don’t know what I’ll do if he leaves me to face it all alone. Hope because he doesn’t deserve to give up his life for ours. Dread because this secret will eat away at me for the rest of my life, and somehow, I’m going to have to find a way to live through it. To craft peace from the threads of my dishonesty.

“Okay.” I suck in air that barely grazes starved lungs. “Tell Holt⁠—”