Page 65 of Secret Twins for My Ex's SEAL Best Friend

“Mom,” Tyler interjected, his tone warning. “Maybe don’t.” I looked at him gratefully, and he smiled reassuringly as he laid thick slices of turkey on his own plate.

“What?” she asked, feigning innocence as she twirled her fork in the air. “I’m just saying, he was good for her. He had connections, and we all liked him, didn’t we?”

“I like the guy at the gas station I always see,” Tyler told her, with an infectious grin, “it doesn’t mean I think Delia should marry him.”

“But he’s still single, right?” my mom pressed.

Tyler groaned and dropped the knife onto the platter with a loud clatter, making our mom look at him sharply. “Can we not make Thanksgiving about Delia’s love life? Or lack thereof?”

“Thank you, Tyler,” I said, watching the turkey slices as they made their way to my plate.

“I’m just concerned,” Mom said defensively, crossing her arms. “You’re in grad school, sure, but you can’t ignore your personal life forever. And Jeremy was—”

“I said enough,” Tyler cut in, his voice firmer this time. “She doesn’t need to hear this right now.”

“Fine,” she snapped, her eyes narrowing. “But don’t come crying to me when she’s thirty-five and single because she wasted her best years.” She leaned back in her chair, bothered by what she perceived as a joint attack against her.

I felt a thick blanket of shame cover me that I couldn’t get through a dinner with her. She didn’t mean to hurt me— I didn’t think. Sometimes it felt that way, but I knew she had her own life embittered by loss. We’d lost our father in the wind, but she’d lost her husband and the father of her children. We’d all lost some of our identity to his running away.

The rest of dinner passed in tense silence, broken only by the clinking of silverware and the occasional forced comment about the food. My mother didn’t bring up Jeremy again, but I could feel her disapproval radiating across the table. It settled on my shoulders like a heavy cloak, weighing me down with every bite I forced down.

After dessert—apple pie that Tyler had picked up from the store on his way over—I excused myself to the kitchen, eager for a moment alone.

I leaned against the counter, staring blankly at the pile of dishes in the sink. The guilt I’d been carrying all day felt suffocating now, pressing down on me like a tidal wave.

I was pregnant, and my mother was sitting in the other room talking about how great my ex was. She had no idea about the life growing inside me, or about the man who had put it there. And she definitely wouldn’t approve if she knew.

To her, Robert would be everything Jeremy was – older, professional – but emotionally unavailable, complicated, with a daughter, and worst of all, a military veteran. A mistake. She would never in a million years approve of a man in the military for me, not after what happened with my dad.

And if she thought I was throwing my best years away now, once she knew about the pregnancy, she’d change her story completely. All of a sudden I’d be throwing away my career and education. She was impossible to please.

And maybe she was right. Maybe I had made a mistake. But as much as I wanted to regret what had happened with Robert, I couldn’t. Because along with the guilt, the fear, and the uncertainty, there was something else. Something warm and quiet and unshakable: hope.

I shook my head as I washed dishes, shaking free of the imaginary conversation I’d already had, and lost, in my mind.

“Hey,” Tyler’s voice pulled me from my thoughts, and I turned to see him leaning against the counter, his arms crossed. “You’vebeen off all day,” he said, stepping closer. He lowered his voice, “Or really, since last night. Are you okay?”

I hesitated, the words caught in my throat. I wanted to tell him—wanted to unload the secret that was eating me alive. But I couldn’t. Not yet. “It’s just school,” I lied. “And work. It’s a lot.”

He studied me for a moment, his brow furrowed. He knew that there was more, but he didn’t push it. Instead, he reached out and gave my shoulder a reassuring squeeze before heading back to the living room where my mom was watching TV, a glass of wine tipping dangerously in her hand.

I watched him go, my chest aching with the weight of everything I wasn’t saying.

As I turned back to the sink, the sound of my mother’s laughter floated in from the other room, grating against my nerves.

So I did what I always did. I swallowed the guilt, plastered on a smile, and went back to the couch, pretending everything was fine. Even if it wasn’t.

thirty

Robert

The day after Thanksgiving, Jeremy and I were seated at a quiet corner table in one of those pretentious farm-to-table restaurants he seemed to favor. He usually chose either the most pretentious place I’d ever been to or the lowliest diner, nothing in between.

By my estimate, he thought he was balancing his late-night fried food and beer binges at a diner with organic greens. He had no consistency for these types of things. The only thing he was consistent about was work, and when he felt his life was out of control, that was when he took to fixing mine.

“It’s good to see you,” Jeremy said, glancing over the menu like he wasn’t already going to order the grilled salmon he always got. “You’ve been busy every time we’ve talked lately. Is everything okay?” He sipped his iced tea.

A pang of guilt stabbed me in the chest, the real reason I’d been avoiding him. “Fine,” I said quickly, maybe too quickly.

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