Call me, please
The message sits there, processing, before the same error appears. Not delivered.
My pulse spikes as the realization hits. He's blocked me. My chest heaves, each breath shorter than the last. The phone's suddenly hot in my hand, burning with rejection.
He knows I tried to reach him. He saw my messages. And now he's erased me completely.
This can't be happening.
I curl deeper into the couch corner, knees pulled to my chest. The fragile calm my mother's call had given me is a distant memory. The panic returns, sharper than before, slicing through my momentary courage.
My hand moves instinctively to my still-flat stomach. Eight weeks. Inside me grows the connection to Warren I can never sever, even if he's cut all ties with me.
What am I going to do now? The question hangs in my empty apartment, unanswered.
Mom doesn't know the truth. Blake would be devastated. And now Warren has made it crystal clear he wants nothing to do with me.
I'm truly alone with this secret.
But something small and fierce flickers inside me. It's not just the barely-formed life, but a resolve I didn't know I possessed. My mother raised Blake alone. She survived. She thrived.
I can do this.
I have to do this.
I set the phone facedown on the coffee table, unable to look at those undelivered messages anymore. My heart still pounds against my ribs, a persistent reminder that this isn't just a bad dream I'll wake from.
The lie, the baby, the silence—they’re all mine to carry now. And I know they’ll break me if I let them.
SIX
Warren
The fluorescent glare on my laptop burns my eyes. Three motions to file, two petitions to draft, and a discovery request already a day late. Five hours straight at this desk and the headache has settled behind my eyes like a permanent tenant.
"Mr. Gregory’s ex-wife is attempting to relocate to Arizona with their daughter," I dictate. "Request emergency hearing to prevent removal from jurisdiction pending?—"
A knock interrupts. Kaley stands in the doorway, cardigan sleeve riding up over the tattoos on her arm.
“You asked me to remind you about lunch with Mr. Carrigan. It’s eleven-thirty.”
"Thanks." I don't look up as I instinctively check the time on my watch to confirm.
"Also, the Jensen adoption papers came back. They need your signature before we can file."
I nod, gesturing to the corner of my desk. "Put them in my inbox on top. I'll sign before I leave."
She hesitates. "You haven't left this office since seventhis morning. I'm glad you're getting out of here for a little while, anyway. I'm starting to worry you're going to develop a vitamin D deficiency."
"I'm fine."
"You know?—."
"Kaley."
She lifts her hands, backing out. "Signing off."
"Thank you."