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“I don’t care about missing out.”
Blaire’s brow pulls. “Simon.”
“I mean it.” I hear how it sounds, but I don’t take it back. “I’m not going to pretend I want to sit in waiting rooms with a woman who’s using a maybe to yank my chain. I’ll show up if it’s mine. But I don’t— I’m not going to mourn time I didn’t spend performing for her. I have Theo. I have you. That’s the pregnancy I already missed. I’m not doing that again with someone who I have nothing with and who’s using it as a bargaining chip.”
She looks at me for a long time in silence.
“Talk to Chance,” she finally says.
I blink. “About what. Veronica?”
“Yeah, about all of this. About what he went through with Leo’s mom, Lexi. They don’t get along. She still makes everything harder than it has to be. But he has him fifty-fifty. They figured out how to hate each other and still be there for Leo. And Chance and Sophia make things work between themselves and Lexi.”
I nod. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.”
I agree, but I feel like I’m signing up for a death sentence. No way in hell is Chance going to help me propose to Blaire once he knows about all this shit. He might just kill me himself for even putting Blaire through this bullshit.
We head back inside before I can chicken out.
Chance is at the table, shuffling the cards.
“Chance,” I say. My throat feels like sandpaper. “Can I talk to you? Outside?”
He gives me a long look, eyes flicking over to Blaire. I can practically see the gears turning—probably assuming I’m about to blow the surprise we’ve been texting about for weeks. The ring hidden in my ammo box. The ring feels like a joke now, given the much bigger mess I’ve made of everything else.
I shoot him a look and jerk my head toward the back door.
We step out onto the deck, the cold night air slapping against my overheated skin. Chance crosses his arms over his chest, waiting, giving me the space to start.
I force the words out before I can swallow them back down. “The woman I was seeing before I got back with Blaire… she’s pregnant.”
Chance’s jaw tightens, the muscle ticking once under the porch light. He doesn’t say anything right away, just stares at me like he’s waiting for the punchline.
“I don’t know if it’s mine yet,” I add quickly, dragging a hand over my face. “But if it is… I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do.”
“Does Blaire know?” he asks, voice low.
I nod. “Yeah. She knows. I told her a few days ago.”
I kept talking because I don't know what else to do. I tell him everything, making sure to leave not a single detail out. Then wait for the ass-kicking that I'm certain I'm about to recieve.
He’s quiet for a long moment, gaze drifting out over the dark yard. The shadow of the old play set stretches across the grass, and for some reason that makes my chest ache worse.
Then he sighs, heavy and tired. “Best advice I got is cut her off,” he says plainly. “This other woman. Cut ties. Completely. If the kid’s yours? Sign your rights away.”
My head snaps toward him so fast it nearly gives me whiplash. “What?”
He lifts a hand. “Hear me out. I’m not saying abandon a child to suffer. I’m saying protect your family from a toxic parent.”
I swallow hard, the words sticking in my throat. “But if it’s my kid…”
Chance nods slowly. “Leo is my kid. And I love that boy more than anything in this world.” His voice softens, but it carries a weight I’ve never heard from him before. “But his mom? She’s poison. And Leo loves her, which means he believes every damn thing she says. Kids repeat what they hear, Simon. You know how many times he’s come to my house talking shit about my wife? About our younger kids? Things he shouldn’t even understand. Words that shouldn’t come out of a six-year-old’s mouth.”
My stomach twists.
“It’s hell,” Chance says flatly. “Hell on my wife. Hell on me. Hell on the other kids. I didn’t have anyone else when Leo was born. No one to think about. No one else to protect.” He looks at me then, something between pity and a warning in his eyes. “You have Blaire. You have Theo. You have something good. Something worth protecting.”
I can barely breathe.