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She finally turns, arms crossed over her chest, chin lifted in that stubborn way I remember too well. “What?”
Her voice is sharp, clipped, but beneath it, there’s something else. Something raw. I narrow my eyes. “Just talk to me.”
She stares at me, jaw tight, something flashing behind her eyes before she forces out a bitter laugh. “Talk to you?” she echoes, voice laced with disbelief.
Then she shakes her head, muttering under her breath, “This is unbelievable.”
I fold my arms across my chest. “What is that supposed to mean?”
She exhales sharply, fingers tightening around the clipboard like it’s the only thing keeping her together. Then, finally, shelooks up, and the emotion in her gaze hits me like a fist to the gut.
“I heard you,” she says. My stomach drops. I blink. “What?”
Her lips part, like she can’t believe I have the audacity to play dumb. “At Nate’s,” she snaps. “I heard you.”
I go rigid. And then, before I can even process what she’s saying, she throws my own words back at me like a blade.
“Never will.” Her voice cracks slightly, but she pushes forward. “That’s what you said, right? That we’re history you won’t repeat? That I'll always be a mistake to you.”
A lump forms in my throat. She swallows hard, a bitter smile curving her lips. “Don’t worry, Bryan,” she says, her voice quieter now, hollower. “I get it.” She turns away before I can say a word.
I step forward, my heart hammering. “Emma, wait…”
“No,” she says sharply, gripping the leash of a dog that doesn’t even need walking. “You were right and that’s why I don't want you to make another mistake.”
And with that, she’s gone, leaving me standing there in the middle of the shelter with a weight in my chest heavier than I’ve ever felt before.
I messed up. And this time, I don’t know if I can fix it.
***
I rub a hand down my face as I step into the kitchen, my phone pressed between my shoulder and ear. Buddy is sprawled on the rug, chewing on a toy, completely oblivious to my tension. The house is too quiet. Emma barely speaks to me anymore, and when she does, it’s clipped, careful, like she’s measuring every word before giving me the bare minimum.
I should be used to it by now. Should have expected it. But it still sits wrong.
My phone buzzes and Liz’s voice crackles through the line, full of energy as always. “Finally! Thought I’d have to hunt you down.”
I snort, dropping into a chair. “You’re six months pregnant, Liz. Not much hunting you can do these days.”
She gasps, all offended. “Excuse you, I waddle with purpose.”
I shake my head, a smirk tugging at my lips despite myself. “Right. My mistake.”
“Absolutely right,” she mutters, then jumps straight to the point. “Anyway, I need you to handle something for me.”
I lean back, already bracing myself. “If it’s baby stuff, you know Nate’s got that covered.”
“Please, Nate’s been on dad duty since I peed on a stick. I need a break from his nesting phase before he drives me insane.” That gets a chuckle out of me. “Alright, what do you need?”
She hums, clearly pleased I’m playing along. “I need the best event planner for my shower.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Liz…”
“Before you even think about saying no,” she interrupts, “remember that I’m carrying your future niece or nephew, and I will absolutely use pregnancy hormones to guilt-trip you.”
I sigh, already pulling up contacts. “You’re impossible.”
“And you love me for it,” she quips. “Now, while I have you …”