Page 11 of This Is Our Forever

“Thanks.”

I get out of the car and march.

When I knock on the door, it echoes. A heartbeat passes, then another. The door swings open, but instead of Amelia, it’s Jules standing there. She bites her lip. “What are you doing here?”

Before I can respond, a little boy—no more than two or three—comes running down the hallway. His chubby legs pump as he barrels toward Jules and stops beside her. He looks up at me and tilts his head, his blue eyes locking onto mine.

“Who are you?”

CHAPTER NINE

AMELIA

I stand at the sink, hands submerged in soapy water. The gentle clinking of dishes and the soothing flow of water offer a brief respite from the storm in my head. On autopilot, I handle each item, trying to quiet the chaos of recent days—Nathan’s sudden appearance, our tense café encounter, and all the unresolved history between us.

A knock at the door startles me. My hands freeze in the sudsy water as I strain to listen. Jules and Dylan’s voices blend with a deeper, unmistakable tone that sends a shock through me.

“My name’s Nathan. And who are you?”

The plate slips from my grasp and clatters in the stainless steel sink. Heart pounding, I whirl, wiping my hands on a towel as I race down the hallway.

Turning the corner, I find Jules in action, scooping Dylan into her arms as his chubby legs kick in the air.

The icy tendrils of fear loosen their grip.

Jules catches my gaze over Dylan’s head, and I mouth a silentthank youas she whisks him away. His curious voice fades as they disappear down the hallway.

I square my shoulders and face Nathan as he stands in the doorway. His tall frame takes over the room, and his messy dark hair and captivating eyes meet mine. The sight of him steals mybreath, and memories of stolen kisses and tangled sheets rush back, unbidden and overwhelming.

“Cute kid.” His eyes linger on Dylan’s retreating form. “Is he Jules’s?”

My throat tightens as I struggle to compose myself.

“What are you doing here, Nathan?” I manage, forcing my voice to stay steady.

He steps forward, his cologne wrapping around me, pulling me toward memories I’ve tried to forget. “I told you; we need to talk.”

I roll my eyes, the gesture reflexive against the storm of emotions rising inside me.

His jaw tightens. “Stop doing that. Why are you so angry with me? You’re the one who left. When you disappeared, I called your friends, even your parents, but no one would tell me where you went. Why did you leave like that?”

His words light a fire inside me, a rage I haven’t felt in years. The image of finding that woman in his bed flashes in my mind and reignites every ounce of pain I thought I’d buried.

I step forward and shove him back out into the hallway. He stumbles, surprise flashing across his face as I slam the door shut behind me.

My hands tremble and my heart races, but I refuse to let him see how close I am to breaking. “I can’t believe you have the nerve to stand here and act like you don’t know what you did.” Each word cuts like a blade, sharp and unrelenting. “Did you really think I wouldn’t find out you were sleeping with other women?”

He blinks as confusion creases his brow. The sight only fuels the flames of betrayal roaring inside me.

“I didn’t want to look at you after that, let alone speak to you. We were over the second you broke your promise. You knew how I felt about cheating, but you still did it.”

I jab my finger into his chest, punctuating every accusation with the force of my anger.

“Now, will you please leave me the hell alone?” I turn, my hand gripping the doorknob, the cold metal grounding me. I pause, fighting back the tears. “You gave up your right to answers when you destroyed everything we had.”

And with that, I wrench open the door and step inside, slamming it behind me. The sound reverberates through the apartment, echoing like a gunshot.

I lean against the wall and squeeze my eyes shut. My chest rises and falls in ragged breaths as the adrenaline fades, leaving behind the hollow ache of old wounds.

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