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My finger hovers over the call button next to Mark's name. I miss the warmth of his voice and the sparkle in those slate blue eyes. However, I hesitate, the weight of our complicated relationship pressing down. I asked him for space, and calling now would only create confusion when I'm still unsure of what to do next.

With a sigh, I scroll down my contact list. It would be better to call Mom and Dad instead.

Their voices are a comfort, even from thousands of miles away.

As the line rings, I sink back into the couch.

When did we grow so distant?

It's been months since I've seen them in person, their adventures whisking them away.

Bali, Machu Picchu, Tanzania—I can hardly keep track.

“Quinn, Darling!” Mom's melodic voice fills my ear. “How are you, Sweet-pea?”

I smile. “Oh, you know. Same old. Working too much, cooking too little.”

Dad chuckles. “We'll have to fix that. I've got a new recipe for you.”

“Oh really?” I ask, even though finding a new recipe is the last thing on my mind. I thought speaking to my parents would help me, but it only reminds me of Mark and what I’m missing.

“I’ll email it to you!” Dad promises.

We chat about their latest safari, laughing over Dad's sunburn and Mom's fear of elephants. Their love is a constant, even now.

“And Quinn, you won’t believe what your dad did last week!” Mom chimes in.

“What?” I ask, her infectious energy spreading through me.

“He said he booked us a flight to Botswana, but turns out he totally forgot and only said it to get me off his back. The day we were supposed to fly out, he covered his tracks and tried to book us a flight, but couldn’t find one. I was livid!”

“For like five minutes,” Dad chimes in.

I laugh. “Oh, look at you two. Always in love.”

“Not always,” Mom laughs. “Last week reminded me of our earlier days.”

“What are you talking about?” I tease. “You two were born in love with each other or something. Thirty years of being happily married, without any major fights. That’s huge, you guys!”

“Quinn, Sweetie, we weren't always this way, you know. Your father and I... we had our rough patches.”

“What?” I squeal. “This is news to me!”

“We were business rivals,” Dad tells me.

“And your father was a total playboy. Oh, how I hated the sight of him! I found him once, trying to flirt with my secretary!”

“What? Dad was a playboy?”

“The baddest in town,” Dad laughs. I hear Mom smack his shoulder. For some reason, this part of their story calls to me, as though it’s an answer I’ve been looking for. If Dad were a playboy and my parents are where they are today, then maybe Mark and I…

“What happened?” I ask, nearly in a whisper.

I hesitate. Do I really want to dredge up ancient history? But curiosity gets the better of me. “How did you two go from enemies to...this?”

Mom chuckles. “Oh, it was quite the scandal at the time.”

“We were young, driven by ego more than good sense,” Dad adds. “I had my East Coast conglomerate. Your mother ruled the West Coast. Each was determined to crush the other.”

I try to reconcile this cutthroat picture with the gentle parents I know. “What changed?”

“Over time, the lines of battle blurred,” Mom says. “Bitter rivalry turned into begrudging respect.”

Dad jumps in. “Then, one fateful conference, we got trapped in an elevator together. Forced to talk without posturing for our companies.”

“We saw each other clearly for the first time. Understood we weren't so different after all.”

“The rest is history,” Dad says softly. “We combined our companies and never looked back.”

I'm struck by their journey—once enemies, now inseparable—and it gives me hope. Mark and I have our own obstacles to overcome, but if my parents found their way together, maybe we still have a chance, too.

Their words echo in my mind long after we say our goodbyes and hang up. Is Mark worth fighting for? I'm not sure. But as I sit there in the gathering dusk, my phone clutched tightly in my hand, I know one thing for certain: I can't keep running from my feelings forever.

But to face whatever I feel head-on, I have to first be honest with myself and the world.

***

The breeze whispers through the cafe's open windows as I wait nervously for Lara, shredding a paper napkin into smaller and smaller pieces. I've never been more grateful for her friendship than in this moment, when I desperately need a listening ear outside of the situation with Mark, even if it is with Mark’s sister. Besides, she deserves the truth.

The tinkling bell over the door announces her arrival. I stand automatically, almost knocking over my chair.

“Hey, sorry I'm late,” Lara says breezily, pulling me into a quick hug before sitting across from me. Her bright smile fades as she takes in my tense posture. “What's going on? You said it was important and Mark’s been acting strange...”

I don’t beat around the bush. Instead, I take a deep breath, folding and refolding my hands. “You know how we told you Mark and I got engaged?”

Lara nods, her expression sharpening with concern.

“Well, I haven't been completely honest about how it happened.” I force myself to maintain eye contact, even as shame burns through me. “Charlie Letvin had his eye on me and suggested that it would be safer for me if I belonged to him. But I never dreamed we’d... that I'd...” I trail off helplessly.

“Oh, Honey!” Lara takes my hand and motions for the waiter. “Two coffees and the largest slice of chocolate cake you have.”

The waiter hurries away, and Lara turns to me. “Chocolate always helps.”

Her kindness almost kills me. “Lara, I’m so sorry. We lied to you all, let you all believe…”

“No, no, Quinn,” Lara's voice is firm. “You don't have to apologize. I understand why you did what you did. Mark can be...overbearing at times and have the strangest plans and convince you to go along with them, but I've seen the way he looks at you. And let me tell you, eyes don't lie.”

The coffee and cake arrive, providing a welcome distraction. We sit in silence for a moment, sipping our drinks.

Then, Lara leans in, her green eyes serious. “Quinn, listen. I know what it must have cost you to tell me all this. But you need to remember something—Charlie might have forced your hand into this fake engagement, but that doesn't change how you and Mark feel about each other. You've been through so much together already. I can see how whatever is happening between you is affecting him.”

“I moved out,” I whisper in confession.

“No wonder,” she clutches her heart. “We’re all worried about him… and now, I’m worried for you too, Lara. I’ve known my brother a long time, and the way he is around you, I’ve never seen him that way.”

“Are you certain?” I ask, with raw desperation. If there’s anyone who would know, it’s his sister. It’s Lara.

“I won’t lie to you, Sweetheart. There’s nothing I could gain from it,” she says with brutal honesty.

Something about her words makes me feel like a fog has lifted. She’s right. There’s no reason for her to lie. Lara has been nothing but brutally honest from the beginning. If she believes I truly mean something to Mark and sees that he feels the same way about me, she’s simply calling an apple an apple.

As we finish the last bites of chocolate cake, I feel a sense of determination settling over me. Lara's unwavering support, coupled with her insight into Mark's feelings, has given me a newfound strength. I can't keep hiding from the truth, especially not from Mark.

“Lara,” I begin, setting down my fork with newfound resolve. “Thank you for listening, for understanding... for everything.”

She smiles warmly at me, her eyes reflecting genuine care as she extends a hand. I let out a shaky breath, gripping Lara's hand like a lifeline.

Her reassurance is a balm to my battered spirit.

“I've been so confused,” I confess. “Pushing Mark away because I didn't trust what we had. But hearing you say that...it gives me hope.”

Lara smiles. “The heart wants what it wants. Don't overthink it.” She tilts her head. “Although with his reputation, I can understand your hesitation.”

I nod ruefully. “Mark's not exactly known for commitment. But when we're together, it feels different. Real in a way I can't explain.”

“Then trust that.” Lara squeezes my hand. “Give him—give yourself—a chance. You both deserve to find out if this is something more.”

Her words resonate through me, a truth I've been avoiding. Mark and I have something unique, something worth nurturing. I've been letting fear hold me back, but no more.

I meet Lara's earnest gaze. “You're right. I'm going to call him.” Saying it out loud fortifies my resolve. “I need to tell him how I feel, and find out if he's willing to try again—for real this time.”

Lara grins, pride shining in her eyes. “That's my girl. Go get your man.”

I know I can't delay any longer. After attempting to pay the bill, which Lara wouldn’t allow me to settle, and sharing a tight hug with her, I step out onto the bustling street. The evening air feels cool against my skin as I walk briskly toward my rented apartment.

The city lights flicker to life around me, and my heart beats rapidly in anticipation. I need to see Mark to tell him how I feel before it's too late. I pull out my phone, ready to set my plan in motion.

Mark's number lights up the screen. My heart pounds wildly in my chest.

This is it. Time to lay my cards on the table.

I take a deep breath and hit call, lifting the phone to my ear. The line trills endlessly. Maybe he won't answer. Maybe this is a sign I should wait-

“Quinn?” Mark's gravelly voice stops my spiraling thoughts.

“Hey,” I say softly. Silence stretches between us, the weight of unspoken feelings hanging heavy.

I force the words out in a rush. “I miss you. And I know I said I needed space, but...I was wrong. I don't want to be apart anymore.”

Mark inhales sharply. When he speaks, his tone is guarded. “What are you saying?”

“That I want to try again. For real this time. No more pretending, no more games. Just you and me, seeing where this goes.” I grip the phone tightly, vulnerable in this moment. “If you want that too.”

The line goes quiet. I picture Mark running a hand through his dark hair, those stormy eyes searching for truth. Finally, he lets out a shaky breath.

“Hell yes, I want that. Want you. I only ever wanted you, Quinn.” His voice drops an octave. “Get back here and I'll show you how much.”

A thrill races through me at his words. I grin into the phone. “I'm on my way!” I say, and end the call.

Just then, a figure emerges from the shadows, blocking my path. I freeze, my breath catching in my throat as I recognize the man standing before me.

“Hello, Quinn,” Charlie says, his voice deceptively calm. “I think it's time we had a little chat.”

My heart pounds as I face Charlie, his presence an ominous shadow in the dimly lit street. “What do you want?” I manage, my voice tight with fear.

He walks closer, pushing me against the wall. The next thing I know, I feel something hard and cold pressed against my stomach. Instinctively, I reach for it to protect myself and my baby, only to discover it’s a gun.

I pale, my hand dropping to my side. “Charlie, no!” I beg, tears rising to my eyes.

A black van pulls up, two feet away from us. “Get in the car.” He tilts his head towards the vehicle, the gun pointed straight at my stomach.