Page 109 of Once Upon A Second Chance

We stand slowly, close enough that our shoulders touch, and step to the sink.

Her hand reaches for mine.

And whatever it says—whatever it means—it’ll be ours now.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Richard

“I’m pregnant.”

The words still echo in my head, soft but unmistakable, like the quiet chime of something sacred being named.

I set the kettle on the stove and turn the knob slowly, watching the blue flame bloom beneath it. The mug on the counter already holds a peppermint tea bag—decaf, because neither of us needs more adrenaline tonight.

I’m not even sure she’ll drink it. I just needed something to do with my hands.

Behind me, Penny sits at the kitchen table, one hand curled around her phone, the other resting over herstomach like she can feel the shift beneath her skin already.

She hasn’t said much since the test, and I haven’t pushed.

There’s a silence between us that isn’t cold or uncertain—it’s just... vast. Like standing on the edge of a cliff and staring down into the next chapter of your life, heart pounding, hands open.

I love her.

That’s not the question.

It hasn’t been the question in a long time.

The question is what I’m supposed to do now. Or rather, what I’m allowed to do without making her feel like she’s trapped in some small-town morality play where a surprise pregnancy comes with a diamond ring and a thousand assumptions.

I want to marry her—I’vealwayswanted that, even when I didn’t know it. But proposing now? Would she think it was just because of the baby? Would it taint the thing I’ve wanted for years by tying it to obligation instead of choice?

My jaw tightens.

I want her to say yes. But I need her to know that I’d ask even if there were no test. No due date. No fear.

I’m about to turn and say something—maybe notthething, but something real—when I hear it.

A sound from outside.

A cry.

Penny lifts her head at the same time I do, brows pulling tight.

There it is again.

Faint, shaky—"Help!"

We both shoot up at once.

"Mrs. Delaney," Penny breathes. She’s already halfway to the door, grabbing her keys and slipping on her shoes like it’s second nature.

I’m right behind her.

The porch light flickers as we burst outside, sprinting across the yard toward the small bungalow next door. Her lights are on, but the door’s ajar, a faint creak echoing as it shifts with the breeze.

“Mrs. Delaney?” Penny calls, rushing up thesteps.