Page 26 of Broken Vows

“Jeremy—”

“Let me finish, please?” His eyes meet mine, earnest and familiar. “I know we can’t just pick up where we left off. I know it’s complicated. But maybe… maybe we could try taking things slow?”

I wrap my arms around myself. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea right now.”

“Not getting back together,” he clarifies quickly. “Just… talking. Being in each other’s lives again. For the baby, but as well…” He trails off, gesturing vaguely between us.

A memory surfaces, unexpected but vivid. Complete change of subject. “Remember, Mr. Thompson’s golf clubs?”

His face breaks into a surprised grin. “Senior year. God, we covered his whole car in golf balls.”

“You said they’d just roll off!” I can’t help laughing at the memory. “They got stuck in his windshield wipers.”

“Hey, that was Kyle’s idea. I just provided the golf balls.”

“From your dad’s collection.”

“Which he never noticed, by the way.” He slides down to sit on the kitchen floor, like we used to do during late-night talks. After a moment’s hesitation, I join him.

“Remember Ashley Carson’s graduation party?” he asks.

“When Tom fell in the pool with his phone?”

“And the cops showed up because the neighbors complained?—”

“—about the karaoke!” we finish together, dissolving into laughter.

The tension eases as we trade memories back and forth. Senior prom, when his boutonniere fell apart, and we had to safety pin it together. The time we got lost driving to the beach and ended up two states over.

“Our wedding,” he says softly, and the air shifts. “Dad was so proud to walk you down the aisle.”

I swallow hard. “He was the closest thing I had to a father. Is,” I correct myself. “The closest thing I have.”

“He asks about you, you know. Mom, too.”

Nodding, I pick at a loose thread on my shirt. “I haven’t heard from Lilly since… since last week. When you overheard.”

Jeremy’s posture stiffens slightly. “Oh?” His tone is carefully neutral, but something flickers across his face.

“Yeah, it’s weird. She usually checks in every day, but…” I study his expression. “What?”

“Nothing.” He says it too quickly. “Just… nothing.”

Silence settles between us, heavier than before. The kitchen clock ticks away in seconds, reminding us that this moment, like all moments, must end.

Finally, he pushes himself to his feet. “I should go. Early shift tomorrow.”

I stand too, brushing off my jeans. “Yeah, okay.”

We walk to the door together, our footsteps echoing in the quiet house. At the threshold, he turns.

“Thanks for talking,” he says simply. “It was nice.”

“It was,” I agree.

No hug. No kiss. Just a gentle “Bye, Lex” and he’s gone, leaving me with memories of golf balls and proms and weddings, and questions about why he tensed up at Lilly’s name.

Through the window, I watch his truck pull away. I touch my stomach absently, thinking about how this baby will have their own memories someday. Their own stories about high school pranks and first loves. Will they have Jeremy’s laugh? My stubbornness?

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