Page 14 of I Do, You Don’t (You Don’t #1)

Lara

T he day after Gideon humiliated himself on my doorstep, I invited Drew over to decompress.

Having witnessed it all, she's aware of everything: how Gideon thought flowers could erase the humiliation of leaving me at the altar, how he thought a half-hearted, “Gee, babe, maybe I was wrong to accuse you of cheating,” could undo the agony he put me through, and how, after months of ignoring my pleas about Delilah, he thought showing up out of nowhere meant he was forgiven.

I warned him. I told Gideon I never wanted to see him again, after repeatedly telling him I never cheated. Since he chose to believe Delilah over me, he can stick by her side and leave me alone.

The knock at the door is sharp, deliberate. Not the kind that says, Hey, just dropping by. No, this one says, Get ready.

I glance at Drew, sprawled on my couch in leggings and a messy bun, shoveling popcorn into her mouth like we’re still pretending this week hasn’t shattered everything.

The soft, rhythmic crunch fills the quiet, but it only makes the silence heavier, denser, like the air has a body of its own, heavy with everything we’re not saying.

“I got it,” I mutter, crossing the room. The hardwood floor creaks beneath my feet; I wince at the noise, as if even the house can sense the tension thickening around us. I unlock the door, the cold metal key turning with a faint click.

And then I freeze. It’s not one person, it’s five. My parents. Two large, expressionless men in black. And front and center… Calvin.

He looks like he hasn’t slept, as if whatever’s about to come out of his mouth has been choking him for years. His eyes are shadowed, his hands flexing at his sides like he’s holding onto something volatile.

“Can we come in?” he says, voice low and edged like glass. His words scrape at the silence in my apartment, making my heart skip. The air freezes. My pulse thuds in my ears.

Five minutes later, everyone’s in my living room, and no one is breathing.

Drew stares at Calvin like she just realized he’s not merely my hot, overly intense friend.

Gross. Meanwhile, my mom, Claire, is perched on the arm of the recliner, arms folded so tightly across her chest it’s a wonder she hasn’t broken her ribs.

The fabric of her cardigan stretches over clenched muscles; the air around her crackles with restrained anger.

The lamp casts her features in sharp relief, making her look carved from stone.

Dad, David, shifts on his feet, like a confession is dripping off him and he’s trying to catch it before it hits the floor. His collar is slightly askew, his tie crooked, as if he’s holding it all together, but barely.

And Calvin?

Calvin stands in the center like he owns the room, like the air obeys him.

The two bulky men behind him don’t blink, they don’t need to.

Their presence alone is a threat. The stale scent of their cologne hangs heavy, mingling with the faint aroma of takeout pizza on the coffee table.

It’s suffocating, thick with the unspoken.

“I’m not here for drama,” he says finally. “But I need to tell the truth. All of it.”

Here we go.

My heartb eat skips, then pounds erratically.

I feel the weight of everything he’s about to say, even before the words leave his mouth.

How many times have I tried to prepare for this moment?

For the truth, no matter how much it stings?

Yet now, standing here in my living room with everyone staring, it feels like I’m being gutted alive.

I already know the pieces of the truth are slipping into place, but that doesn’t make them any easier to swallow.

Drew glances at me. My stomach drops. I’d known this was coming—for a year. Yet hearing it aloud feels like watching a wreck I caused but couldn’t stop.

“I’m your brother,” Calvin says simply.

Drew blinks. “I’m sorry, what?”

Calvin looks between us. “Drew. I’m your brother. Half-brother, technically.”

Silence. Not the stunned kind, the what-the-fuck-is-happening kind.

Then Claire lets out a short, clipped laugh. “I think I’d remember giving birth a third time.”

I sigh and rub my temple. I can’t process how fast this is happening. Everything unfolds beyond my control.

Calvin raises a hand, palm out, before anyone can speak again. “I know it sounds insane. Believe me, I thought so too. But I had a DNA test run two months ago to be sure. My grandparents weren’t exactly quiet about how my father is married to another woman, or how my mother despises my existence.

He continues, “I ran a private search to fact-check. Turns out I share paternal DNA with Drew and Lara. I traced it back here. To your father.”

All eyes snap to Dad, who looks like he’s swallowed a box of nails.

“I didn ’t come here to rip anyone apart,” Calvin adds. “I came because I wanted to understand. To learn. To observe. Why Delilah, Drew, and Lara got to grow up with parents, and I didn’t.”

Dad’s face crumples. “I, I didn’t know.”

We all watch it happen in real time. Mom’s frown deepens as she pieces the puzzle together, one piece at a time. This is a corner piece, this one has a flat edge, goes on the outside, and then…

She snaps, turning on Dad. “What did you do? Who did you, no. No. We agreed there was never anyone else.”

“There wasn’t!” Dad’s voice cracks. “Not after we got married. But before, Claire, it was before. I didn’t know about him. I swear to you, I didn’t know.”

“You didn’t know you had a child?”

“I was nineteen!” He throws up his hands. “It was one night. I thought, God, I thought she’d moved on. I didn’t even know she was pregnant.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me about this woman before we had children of our own?”

“I’ve only slept with three women in my entire life,” Dad says. “Veronica, her best friend Sloane, and you.”

(He slept with his old girlfriend’s best friend? Ew.)

Mom stands, trembling, her voice rising with each word.

The fabric of her dress shifts as her body tenses.

The room feels stifling, air thick with tension, like the walls are closing in.

The faint ticking of the clock is the only sound, marking time as everything unravels.

The suffocating tension settles like dust, clinging to each of us.

Our family teeters on the edge of shattering.

“Enough,” Calvin snaps.

It cuts through everything, the yelling, the questions, the emotional static.

“Enough ,” he repeats, voice harder now, edged with something old and bitter. “This isn’t about you two, your marriage, or your secrets. This is about me.”

Amen, brother.

He steps forward, just enough to block the space between my parents and us. The two men behind him shift slightly, not threatening, just a reminder that they’re there.

“You want to talk about pain?” Calvin says, voice low and guttural. “I grew up watching my mother fall apart, wondering why she wasn’t enough for the man who disappeared. Wondering what kind of man leaves before a baby is even born. I was raised by grandparents who didn’t approve of my existence.”

Mom looks like she’s about to speak, but he cuts her off with a sharp look.

“I didn’t come here to make peace. I came to tell the truth. My mother is Veronica Sabilia.”

Mom pales.

Drew’s eyes go wide. “Wait. That’s Delilah’s mom.”

Calvin nods. “And before you ask, no. I don’t care what DNA says. Delilah is dead to me.”

The silence that follows is heavier than anything before it.

Drew opens her mouth, then closes it again. Mom sits back down, slower this time, as if the truth is aging her by the second. Dad leans against the wall, eyes closed, as if avoiding us could make this all disappear.

It won’t.

I inhale slowly. “So, what now?”

Calvin turns to me. And for a second, just a second, the hardness drops from his face.

“Now, ” he says softly, “we learn what it means to be a family.” So positive. So unlike the mysterious Calvin I’ve grown to know.

I leap from the couch and lunge at my brother, wrapping my arms around his chest and holding tight. He hugs me back, and, surprisingly, Drew joins us. It’s bittersweet, losing a fiancé, but gaining a brother.

Meanwhile, our parents stand there, agape. Nothing will ever be the same again.

As the room settles into tense quiet, we all step back.

Calvin’s words echo in my mind, but it’s not just his pain that lingers, it’s the realization that I’ve been complicit in this silence.

Keeping his secret, even as Delilah twisted it into something vile, has gnawed at me for months.

It’s as if my own guilt has piled atop everything else, creating an avalanche of emotion I can’t escape.

I glance at Drew, still staring at Calvin like he’s a puzzle she can’t solve. Her lips part, but no words come. I know that look. She’s trying to make sense of the impossible.

“Drew,” I say softly, drawing her attention. “I knew.”

Her head snaps toward me. “You knew?”

I nod, swallowing hard. “Calvin told me a year ago. He asked me to keep it quiet until it was safe.”

“Safe from what?” Claire demands, her voice sharp enough to cut glass.

Calvin steps forward, gaze steady. “Safe from the people who would’ve used it against me. Against all of you.”

Mom’s eyes narrow. “What kind of people?”

“The kind you don’t want to meet,” Calvin replies evenly. “I left that life behind, but it doesn’t mean it left me.” The two men behind him make that clear.

The room falls into stillness again, his words sinking in. Each moment stretches, thickening the air until it feels almost impossible to breathe.

Drew looks at me, her expression a mix of hurt and confusion. “And Delilah? Does she know?”

We both do. I don’t tell Drew about the day I stumbled upon Calvin’s grandparents berating him, calling him a bastard born out of wedlock who ruined his mother’s life.

I don’t mention how Delilah stormed in, demanding to know why he had spoken to them.

And I most certainly don’t tell her about standing in the doorway, listening as Calvin dropped the bomb that our dad was his dad, and that his entire birth had been kept secret to maintain appearances.

I hesitate, then nod. “She found out. And she used it to spread rumors about Calvin and me. She wanted to hurt us both.”

Drew’s jaw tightens. “Bitch.”

“Language,” Mom snaps automatically, but there’s no real heat behind it, especially since Drew is usually so subdued. Even Mom knows her reaction is warranted.

The words tumble out of me before I can stop them.

“That’s why I can’t keep doing this. Keeping secrets.

Letting people like Delilah control the narrative.

It’s not just about us anymore. There are so many women out there who’ve been silenced, judged, left to fend for themselves.

I want to help them. I need to help them. ”

Calvin’s gaze softens, and for the first time, I see a flicker of pride in his eyes. “Then do it,” he says simply. “Don’t let anyone stop you.”

I nod, resolve settling over me like a cloak I’ve been waiting to wear.