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Her breath hitches, her chest rising and falling like she’s barely holding herself together. “But Veronica—”

I cradle her face in both hands, my thumbs brushing her cheeks as I hold her steady. “Gone. She’s been gone since the hospital. And not once—not with her or anyone else—did I ever feel even a fraction of what I feel just thinking about you.”

Her eyes search mine, glassy and unfocused, still clouded by alcohol. I wonder how much of this she’ll even remember in the morning.

“I wanted you back the second we got off that call,” I admit, my voice cracking. “I was just too much of a coward to call you and beg for forgiveness. And then when I found out you were pregnant…” My throat tightens, and I feel the burn of tears on my own face. “I should’ve begged then. I should’ve shown up at your parents’ house and gotten on my knees. It had nothing to do with Theo. I should’ve done it regardless.”

She stares up at me, small and broken. “Then why didn’t you?”

The question guts me.

“I thought you hated me,” I whisper. “You seemed so angry, and you said the baby didn’t change anything between us. I thought you wanted nothing to do with me. You deserved better, and I wanted to give you the chance to find it.”

She shatters.

A sob tears out of her as she collapses into my chest, her hands fisting in my shirt like she’s afraid I’ll disappear. “I didn’t want better,” she cries, voice muffled against me. “I wanted you.”

I break.

My arms close around her like they’ve been waiting four years to do it, one hand cradling the back of her head as I bury my face in her hair. Hot tears soak the strands, and I don’t even try to stop them. I fall to the floor, tugging her down with me until she’s curled in my lap, her face buried in my chest as she sobs.

“My sweet girl,” I choke out, rocking us gently. “My Blaire. I’m so fucking sorry.”

She cries harder, the kind of sobs that come from somewhere deep and old, her whole body shaking in my hold. I just hold her through it, whispering the same words over and over until her sobs start to quiet into hiccupping breaths and her grip on my shirt loosens.

Eventually she goes quiet, her breathing evening out against my chest, the alcohol and the emotional exhaustion pulling her under. I stay there with her for a long moment, afraid to move, afraid this will all vanish if I let go.

When I’m sure she’s out, I scoop her up again and carry her the rest of the way to her bedroom. She doesn’t stir as I lower her onto the bed. I hesitate, the pull to crawl in beside her stronger than it should be. But I know better. She’s drunk—far too drunk for this to mean anything real. Even if she remembers this in the morning, wanting me once doesn’t mean she still does. Love doesn’t erase what happened, and it doesn’t promise forgiveness.

Still, I’m weak enough to lean down and press a kiss to the top of her head, tasting salt from both our tears. I stay there a moment, eyes closed, letting myself have this in case it’s all I’ll ever get. In case she wakes up and regrets every word.

Tomorrow, when she’s sober, I’ll do what I should have done from the start and hope it’s enough.

Chapter twenty

Blaire

The first thing I feel when I wake up is the distinct certainty that my head is about to split open. Or that my stomach is about to turn itself inside out. Possibly both.

I groan and roll over, pressing my face into the pillow. Trying to gather the willpower to get up so I can go pick up Theo. Maybe I can text Simon and convince him to get him instead—tell him I’m sick.

The second Simon’s name crosses my mind, the events of last night slam into me all at once.

Oh, fuck.

I sit up too fast, ignoring the way the room tilts, and grab my phone with shaky hands. My stomach churns as I check the screen, half-expecting a string of messages from him.

Nothing. Just a text from Jamie saying she got home safe and a couple from my dad about Theo. No Simon. Which could mean he’s giving me space or…

A cold feeling settles in my chest as I glance at my closed bedroom door. If I open it, I have a feeling I’ll find him waiting on the other side.

I swallow down the nausea and clear my throat before calling out, voice hoarse. “Simon?”

No answer.

“Simon?” I try again, louder this time.

A heavy thud, a muffled curse, and then my bedroom door creaks open.