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I had just relaxed on the sofa with my homemade pizza when there was a knock on the door. It felt like the hundredth one of the day.

I looked through the peephole, seeing Beckett waiting on the decking.

What more could he possibly want?

I took a deep breath and opened the door. Just as he did all those years ago, he took my breath away. He wore sweat shorts despite the weather—I guessed jeans were a no go with a cast—and an oversized hoodie. The years had been good to him, but when I looked at him, I still saw the same boy I said goodbye to at the airport all those years ago.

“Hey.” He smiled, but it didn’t fully reach his eyes.

“Hi.”

“Is Liam here?”

“No, he’s at his friends for a sleepover. Did you want to speak to him?” I asked, not sure where this conversation was going.

“I actually came to talk to you.”

I knew we had things to talk about. I needed to know what happened when it came to him just as I’m sure he was curious about things.

“Come in.”

I held the door open for him before following him through to the living room. He wobbled slightly on his crutches and something in me couldn’t see him struggling. I helped lower him onto the sofa as his gaze met mine briefly.

“Thanks, I guess I’ve been overdoing it.” Much to his surprise, I propped his leg up on a cushion on the coffee table. “You didn’t need to do that.”

Brushing off his thanks, I sat down beside him, keeping my distance.

“I didn’t know you were pregnant. I wouldn’t have stayed in Spain if I had known.” He started, letting out a deep breath.

“But you never came back for me regardless. Why?” I fought back the tears, thinking back to those endless lonely nights I endured when he left.

“Mike said you had moved on. My parents said it too.”

What the fuck?!

“And you believed him? You believed Mike over the girl who was planning a future with you? You believed what we had meant that little to me?” I jumped off the sofa, pacing the living room, my blood boiling.

“Em, I?—”

“So what, he told you I moved on and that was it? You forgot about me just like that?” I seethed, anger and upset bubbling beneath the surface.

“No! But he was persuasive, and by then you had already blocked me. I didn’t know what to think.” He tried to stand from the sofa, but the pain must have been too much because he gave up right away. “He told my parents…” He let out a shaky breath as if he were trying to calm himself down. “He told my parents he was the father of your baby.”

A sudden queasiness crept over me, twisting my insides and making the room spin. I thought he was a friend. I thought he had Liam’s best interests at heart, but he didn’t. He just wanted Beckett out of the picture and he did whatever he had to do to arrange that.

“But I told him I was pregnant with your baby. I was confused. I didn’t know what to do. I called you, but he answered your phone on his visit to Spain with the boys to see you.” I held onto the bookcase, steadying myself from sinking. From falling into the mistakes of the past. “He seemed so genuine, so worried at why I was upset, that I just blurted it out. I’m so sorry…”

“Stop that, you don’t need to apologise.” He was so calm, despite all the shit we were finding out. “What happened after that?”

“He told me he’d speak to you, and you’d call me. But he was the one who called me back…” I let a tear escape my eye. “He said you didn’t want a kid. That you outgrew me and were onto better things. He said you were already moving on…” I stifled a sob, bringing my hand to my mouth. “I should have known. I shouldn’t have listened, but I had never felt so broken, so alone.”

“He never said a word to me.” He struggled but managed to stand, grabbing his crutches, and making his way to where I stood. “I promise you that.”

My lip trembled as I sobbed, unable to hold it in any longer. Without warning, he wrapped his arms around me, holding me the way he used to, only this time we were two different people. We were no longer those teenagers in love.

I stayed there for a moment, breathing in his scent. It was comforting until I realised we couldn’t do this. I stepped away, wiping my tears.

My voice trembled as I spoke. “Tell me what it is that you want.”

“A relationship with my son.” His hopeful eyes searched mine.

“I wouldn’t deprive you of that, but I have my conditions.”

“Name them,” he replied quickly, and I did what I should have done years ago, I trusted him. Trusted he was telling the truth and Mike had played everyone.

“You will be introduced as a family friend. You cannot just waltz into his life and blurt out that you’re his father. He will be told when the time is right.”

“Deal. I’ll follow your lead. I just want a relationship with him, Em… I lost so many years, ones I’ll never get back.”

“I know.” I glanced up at his broken face that still somehow held so much hope. “Over time, you’ll build that relationship together regardless of whether you’re here or back in Spain.”

I knew he’d end up going back eventually.

“Come back tomorrow. I’ll introduce you then properly. I’ll do what I can with Liam for him to accept you.”

As I finished my sentence, I heard the front door open and close.

“Hey, Em, I just came to drop off that—” Harry froze on the spot, his relaxed expression morphed into a thunderous one when he spotted Beckett and noticed that my face was wet from tears.

“What the fuck did I tell you, you piece of shit?” He seethed through gritted teeth, dropping the bag he was carrying onto the floor and making a beeline for Beckett.

“Harry, stop, please,” I pleaded, my heart hammering against my ribcage as I stepped between them, my hands firmly planted on Harry’s chest.

“After everything, after all these years, you’re stepping in the way?” He was livid at the sight of Beckett more than anything else. “Why? What makes him so fucking special?!”

“Because he didn’t know…” I sobbed. “He didn’t know I was pregnant, Harry!”

“And you believe that bullshit?” He laughed.

“Yes.” I stood my ground. It was my decision to believe him, and after everything came to light, it made sense. It still hurt, of course it did, but I believed him.

“Come on then, tell me what lies he fed you.” Harry glanced over my shoulder at Beckett but aimed his demand at me.

“They aren’t lies. You knew me, Harry. Do you really think I would have left her with absolutely nothing if I knew?” Beckett stepped around me, not wanting to hide, his crutches squeaking against the floor.

“That’s where you’re wrong. I don’t know you anymore.” He shook his head with a sarcastic smile.

“Please, can we sit down and talk about this?” I breathed out a sigh, hoping he’d agree.

“I’m happy to explain everything if Harry’s willing to listen.”

“Fine.” He rolled his eyes before settling in the armchair.

I let Beckett go over everything while Harry sat there stunned. I listened to it all again, hating that it cut deeper than the first time.

“That motherfucking snake.” Harry tightened his fist until all the blood had drained from his knuckles. “And to top it off, he’s acted like a fucking saint all these years! Wait until I get my hands on him!” He jumped to his feet, anger radiating from him. “I can’t believe I tried to set you up with him. How the hell do I have such bad taste in friends?”

“You fucking did what?” Beckett was seething, clearly pissed off at Harry’s confession. Apparently, he didn’t love the idea of me being set up with someone else.

“I hated you! Fuck, I probably still do, but you were gone. He fed us all shit, painting himself as a hero and stepping in when it counted. Why wouldn’t I have wanted that for my sister?”

“You mean stepping in to spend time with my son when he was the one who caused all this drama and miscommunication in the first place?!”

I glanced between the pair of them, their eyes burning with fury at one another.

“That’s enough! This isn’t your fight, Harry. No matter how much you want it to be. Mike played Beckett and me, and when he’s back from his business trip, we’ll deal with it.” I turned to face my brother fully. “But I do need your help with something.”

“Anything. Name it.”

“I need you to help Beckett with Liam if he needs it.” He scrunched up his face as I spoke. I knew he hated the idea despite now knowing the truth. “Help him or don’t, either way he deserves to know his son.”

“So, what, you’re just going to blurt out he’s his father?” my brother asked.

“I’m going to be introduced as a family friend. Hopefully, it helps with Liam’s attitude towards me, but if it doesn’t, then we’ll take each day as it comes.” Beckett half smiled. I could tell he meant every word he said.

“Alright, I’ll help but that doesn’t mean I trust you.” Harry just couldn’t help himself with the remarks.

“It’s cute that you think I care,” Beckett said, earning a pissed off glare from my brother.

“I think it’s best if both of you leave now. I need to go to bed.” I rose from the sofa, hoping they would do the same. “If you want to leave your number, I’ll text you in the morning, Beckett.”

“It’s the same number it always has been. I never changed it in hopes that one day I’d hear from you.” A smile played at the corner of his lips.

“I deleted it years ago. You can just rewrite it for me.”

He scribbled down his number on the pad beside the sofa as Harry finally clocked the pizza.

“Did you order a takeaway or did you make that?” Harry asked, scrunching up his nose in disgust., already knowing the answer.

“If you already know the answer, why did you ask?” I laughed.

“Call it curiosity.” Harry chuckled.

“Do you want me to pack some for you to take home?” I teased, knowing just how much my brother hated my cooking.

I might have been good at baking, but unfortunately, I wasn’t when it came to cooking.

“Umm, you know, that’s a lovely thought. But I have food there.”

“I’ll take some.” Beckett smiled, clearly forgetting he only liked my baking.

“You sure?” Harry asked, taken aback by his offer.

“Yeah, I’m bloody starving.” Beckett leaned on his crutches with a boyish grin.

“You’d have to be to eat that.” And just like that, in the late hours of Saturday evening, Harry and Beckett shared a laugh, one they hadn’t shared in a while.

After they left, I looked down at the notepad, skimming my fingers over the piece of paper and tracing my thumb over his writing. Pulling out my phone, I scrolled through my contacts and there it was as clear as day. His phone number.

B.

The truth is, I never deleted this number. I could never bring myself to do it.