Page 56 of The Plus One Contract

“Clearly.” A short silence. Muffled clinks of dishes from downstairs float up, making me hyper-aware of how little time we might have.

“Do you still love him?” Nathan asks quietly.

A humorless snort escapes. “God, no. I did once…I guess.” The words slip out before I can stop them. It feels weirdly natural to talk to him like this. Maybe it’s because I don’t know him, or perhaps it’s because I’m not looking at him. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s because no one else in my life ever asked. They all assumed Daniel and I had just ended.

Nathan says nothing, just waits. The bed dips slightly under his weight, the faint scent of him, clean and warm, pushing my nerves even further.

“We had a plan,” I continue, folding my hands over my stomach. “We knew where we’d get married, which neighborhoods we wanted to buy a house in. Careers were going well. Everything lined up.” I pause, swallowing. “Then came the topic of kids.”

Nathan gives a low hum, listening intently.

“He wanted them soon. Like,soon.And I…” I shrug, eyes locked on the plastic stars overhead. “I wasn’t ready. We fought about it constantly. I think he assumed I’d change my mind. That if we stuck to our plan, eventually I’d just become the person he needed.” The paint near one of the stars is chipped, and I focus on it, remembering how Dad cursed under his breath when the stickers wouldn’t budge. “Turns out, he decided to make plans with someone else.”

I keep my tone even, trying to bury the old hurt. It’s not bitterness; it’s just…facts.

“Lauren,” he says, voice low.

“Yep. He was seeing her for six months before I found out. By then, I was already halfway out the door, but it still—” I break off, letting the unspoken words hover.It still hurt.

Nathan’s entire body stiffens. “And he’s at your fucking dinner table,” he mutters, anger curling each syllable.

A short, startled laugh escapes me. “Yeah, well, that’s my life. My parents don’t know the details. I didn’t stick around long enough to tell them, and it’s not exactly a dinner conversation. I wasn’t ashamed. It was just exhausting. Heartbreaking. I took the first flight to New York the second a job opened up.” I press my palms against the mattress, grounding myself. I lived in a hotel for three weeks until I met Harper at work, and we found a place.

There’s a weighted silence before he finally asks, “So, your brother?”

“Jeremy knows. He stopped talking to Daniel for a while, but they’ve been friends since we were kids. He gave him a black eye, let him grovel, and eventually forgave him. They’re basically family.”

He grunts like he’s trying hard not to curse. I glance over, noticing how tense his jaw is, how his knuckles flex against his stomach. I’ve never seen someone so genuinely pissed off on my behalf. It’s strangely comforting.

“You good there?” I tease softly.

He doesn’t respond. Instead, his dark eyes flick toward me, brimming with frustration. “Sounds like bullshit,” he says bluntly, like the concept of Daniel’s betrayal rattles him to his core.

Despite myself, I laugh, a genuine bubble of amusement. He eyes me like I’ve gone mad.

My smile fades a little. “You don’t get it,” I say.

“Damn right I don’t.”

“It’s family, Nathan,” I say, forcing a shrug. “Not perfect. Dysfunctional as hell, but still family.”

He shifts, turning his eyes back to the ceiling. For a second, the overhead light catches the faint green glow of the stars.

“Is your family not dysfunctional?” I ask, half-expecting a flippant reply.

He goes quiet, tension coiling in his posture.

“Dysfunctional is putting it nicely. My parents divorced early. My mom worked all the time and found new men even faster. My father…” He swallows. “He believed in teaching manners with a belt.”

My breath catches.Oh God.I wasn’t expecting that. Heat prickles behind my eyes as my chest tightens. I manage a soft nod, not wanting to interrupt with clumsy words. He’s not looking at me, but I sense the weight of that confession.

“My brother,” Nathan continues, “didn’t turn out much better. I haven’t spoken to him in years.” A short pause. “So I have Julian and Wes.”

“Your work wife,” I say, hoping a bit of lightness helps because I can barely breathe around the ache in my chest.

A half-smile ghosts across his lips. “Yeah.”

“And Wes?” I haven’t heard of him.

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