Page 44 of Broken Destiny

“I thinknowis a good time,” Caleb said firmly as he stepped closer, stopping directly in front of me.

I lifted my gaze to meet his.

He was looking down at me with an intensity that felt almost accusatory, like a police officer who had just caught a suspect in the act.

Our bodies were close enough that I could feel the solid, imposing presence, yet there was still a small distance between us, a thin line neither of us had crossed.

Then his familiar scent reached me.

The same aftershave he had always worn. The same scent that had once clung to my clothes, my pillow, my memories.

My heart slammed against my chest.

“Mama?” Emma’s small voice called from behind me.

I turned my head instantly.

My fingers turned ice cold, and a sour taste filled my mouth.

Before I could react, Caleb stepped forward and walked past me into the house, his expression balanced between curiosity and shock.

I opened my mouth to stop him, but the words never came.

Greg followed behind him, looking visibly uncomfortable.

Caleb bent to Emma’s height. “And who’s this little one?” he asked.

My mouth went dry. I felt as though the air had been sucked out of the room, the weight of the moment pressing in from all sides.

Time for the truth.

“This is Emma,” I said. “My daughter.”

Caleb turned and faced me. His expression changed as though I had struck him.

His mouth went slack, and his eyes widened.

“Nice name,” he said icily.

He had just heard the name of our daughter, the name he had once whispered to me at his birthday party, and when we had dreamed about a future that had never come to pass.

His jaw ticked, as though he were fighting to keep his emotions locked behind a wall of restraint.

I could almost hear the questions forming in his mind, and I felt a flicker of guilt rise inside me, because I knew exactly what he was thinking.

How could I have done this to him?

The unspoken, invisible accusation hung in the air between us.

Emma grabbed his hand and asked, “Brekkie?”

Before he could answer, she led him toward the dining table, and Greg followed along beside me, my heart still shaken by Caleb’s presence in my home.

“Sit,” Emma said, trying to pull out a chair for him, her small hands tugging at the heavy wood with earnest effort.

“Thank you,” he said. “Let me put you in your chair first.”

He lifted her gently and placed her in the highchair.