Page 26

T he next morning I was up before the rest of the family, silent in the kitchen, preparing breakfast for the kids: eggs, toast, some fruit if they remembered to eat it.

Sloane hadn’t said anything last night beyond let me sleep on it but her voice had lingered in my head. She'd sounded soft and uncertain. I replayed every syllable, every pause.

I heard the creak of the hallway floorboards and turned to see her step out of the bedroom, wrapped in a robe. Her face was still pale, even paler than it was last night.

“Hey,” I said.

She didn’t answer. Instead, she froze, eyes wide for a second, then bolted straight to the bathroom.

I dropped the spatula and followed her without thinking, but hesitated at the doorway. The sound of her retching sent a chill through me. Rufus whined behind my legs.

I knocked lightly. “Sloane? ”

She didn’t answer for a second, then managed, “I’m fine. I need… a minute.”

I backed off, but didn’t go far.

A few minutes later the door creaked open.

Her face was damp with sweat and her hair stuck to her temples.

But what stunned me wasn’t her condition, it was the haunted look in her eyes: guilt, fear, and something I couldn't pin a name to.

She walked past me and leaned against the hallway as I waited.

“I was going to tell you,” she said, voice hoarse. “I needed to be sure.”

I stared at her as my heart beat faster. "Tell me what?”

Her gaze found mine. “Levi… I’m pregnant.”

Everything in me went still. The walls, the floor, my body, it all blurred as if the world had tilted on its axis. Gravity didn't exist.

Well, fuck me. Getting that vasectomy is pointless now.

I swallowed. “How far along…?”

She grimaced. “Weeks. I was hoping maybe it was the flu, but… I'm definitely pregnant."

"Weeks," I repeated. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, Levi. I'm sure. After the awful fight we had over you missing Liam's birthday party? I think it was after that fight… that must’ve been when it happened.”

Our last toxic rage fuck.

How in the hell am I this fucking stupid? Obviously, she was already pregnant by the time I came back in this life.

I tried to defend myself for failing to do the mental math: I was operating off of twelve year old memories from a stressful time of my previous life; I was worried about the impending pandemic; I was focused on groveling my way back into Sloane's life; then Angie had turned into a fucking creepy, ever-present, boogeyman.

It was not an exaggeration to say that I'd had a lot on my mind.

But still… I felt like the biggest fucking idiot on earth in that moment.

I nodded as her words squeezed the air from my lungs. I struggled with what to say next, but it was my wife who broke the silence: my beautiful, snarky, sarcastic wife.

“We’d always been trying for a third,” she said with an irreverent smirk.

I laughed because it was true. We’d dreamed of a big, loud house filled with little feet and crayon-covered walls.

We never used condoms because… well, between the struggle to conceive and our shared hope, it had never seemed necessary.

And now? Now it felt like another thread tangled in the knot I’d created.

I ran a hand through my hair as my guilt crushed me. “Yeah, a third and a fourth and a fifth… we dreamed big."

She didn’t say anything as she stared at a fixed spot on the wall, arms wrapped tightly around her middle as if she were already protecting the baby.

While I stared at her, memories from my previous life assaulted me.

How our divorce had dragged out because of this exact pregnancy.

How the virus ravaged the country that winter, killing hundreds of thousands before Christmas.

How Sloane had miscarried in a hospital bed, alone, while her sister stayed home with the kids.

And what was the Old Me doing? Oh, he was down in Key West, trying and failing to keep his development project together.

He'd chosen to chase money instead of hold Sloane's hand.

The entire country had been shut down and quarantined, so the Old Me couldn't have driven home to Sloane if he'd wanted to.

Which he didn't. He was too busy fucking Angie, lying to himself that he could drown his self-hatred between her legs.

I let out a stuttering breath. “Fuck me, Sloane. I feel like an idiot for not connecting the dots sooner. If I’d slowed down. If I’d been paying closer attention…”

She glanced at me, the smirk on her face still there. “If you’d done emotional yoga sooner?”

"Yeah, if only I had."

Sloane’s breathing steadied. She didn't see me spiraling, but I felt the clock ticking faster than I wanted it to.

I refused to lose sight of what the Old Me had been too blind to see. This time, I would not lose Violet or Liam. I would not lose Sloane. I would not lose this baby. Not again.

“Okay,” I said.

Sloane blinked and her wry smirk turned into a look of shock. “Okay? That’s it?”

“No,” I said as I stepped closer to her. “It’s not just okay. It’s everything. And if you’ll let me, I will be here for every second of it. The morning sickness, the cravings, the uncertainty, the fear. All of it.”

Tears welled in her eyes. “Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. You and the kids are my everything Sloane. This new addition… this doesn’t change that. If anything, it reminds me how much I still want this. All of it. Us.”

Her bottom lip trembled and she looked away.

“This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen,” she whispered.

“I know,” I said. I placed my hand, gently, on her shoulder. “But maybe this is how it needs to happen. I know this isn't perfect, but fate is real.” And I felt that deep in my core as I stood there with her, being granted this second chance to be at her side .

She let out a shaky breath and wiped under her eyes. “God, Levi… you screw up everything with fireworks, but then show back up like some reformed Hallmark husband.”

“I’m still working on the Hallmark part. I haven't figured out how to chop firewood in slow motion while wearing a flannel. Yet.”

That earned me the smallest, most precious snort.

I saw the relief hit her then. "About last night,” she said. “I was going to say yes. To you moving back in. Not because I need help or need your money. But because it will be good for the kids. And maybe… good for us.”

Fuck, I love her.

I didn’t hesitate. I reached for her, pulled her into my arms, hugged her. "Okay, my love. I am a slave to your whims. Tell me what you need and I'll be there."

Tears clung to her lashes and soaked my shirt, her voice shaky as she said, “Levi, I don’t know if I can do this, if I can ever forgive you… but I miss you. Goddamn, I miss you.”

That was all it took. My lips found her cheeks, her jaw, the corners of her eyes where tears had streaked like falling stars.

The faint scent of mint on her breath told me she had brushed her teeth despite battling the nausea that tore up her insides.

Even in her weakest moments she held herself together, refusing to be seen as unkempt or vulnerable.

But in that moment? She lowered her walls, invited me to see her, and let me in. For the first time since I had woken in this new life, it wasn’t simply me chasing Sloane and groveling before her. She chose to open her arms and ask for me.

It wrecked me, how much I missed her. To think of all the intimacy I’d thrown away by chasing validation in the wrong arms sickened me .

"Sloane," I managed in a guttural whisper.

Then the following words tumbled out of me, desperate and bare.

"I want to kiss away your pain I've caused.

I adore you, cherish you, desire you, admire you.

" My breathing quickened and shook, bursting with things I should have told her years ago.

"I used to want control. I thought I needed it.

But now... all I want is to surrender. To you. Completely."

My thumb traced the curve of her jaw as I turned her face to me.

She startled, flinching enough for me to pull back. "Levi."

“Fuck, I’m sorry, Sloane,” I said. Did I say too much?

She shook her head, her eyes shining. “No. I… I want you, too.”

Those simple words broke my resolve and we met each other halfway.

Our mouths collided with a hunger that bordered on starvation.

My tongue brushed against hers, exploring at first, then deeper, more urgent as she leaned into me.

Her body pressed against mine. The soft gasp that escaped her lips, followed by a quiet, aching moan, ignited something primal in me.

It wasn’t only lust. It was need, raw and tangled in regret, in longing, in everything we’d lost and everything we still might have a chance to reclaim.

Her fingers curled into my shirt, clutching me like she was afraid I’d vanish if she let go. I felt her tremble from the kiss that wasn’t a kiss; it was a reckoning. Betrayal and silence squeezed into the heat between us.

I ran my hands along her shoulders and back, relishing and remembering her curves. She let me in, if only for this moment, and I refused to take it for granted.

She broke the kiss first, breathing hard, my forehead resting against hers. Her voice was barely above a whisper. “Goddammit, Levi. I don’t know how to forgive you. ”

My throat tightened. “Then don’t. Not yet. First, let me try to be worth forgiving.” I brought my hand to her neck and my fingers felt her pulse quicken. Her skin was warm, flushed.

She didn’t pull away as she said, "I see your ego still has no limits."

"Only because I know you were made for me, as I was made for you. I want you, Sloane. I want you trembling and shaking beneath me as I worship your body with my tongue."

I felt her shiver at my words.

"But then there's the darker part of me that wants to tie you up and fill you with my cum until you can taste it."

When I kissed her again, it was rougher. Intentional. Both silent apology and carnal promise wrapped in every motion.