Page 70 of Falling for You Again

Then I do see it.

“Oh my God.” I press my hands to my cheeks. Aaron tells me about his brother, about how his family blames him for Liam’s death. He reveals this after we sat through the most painfully awkward family dinner I’ve ever experienced with a woman who, in front of her son’s wife, humiliates him by doing everything short of vocalizing out loud that he is, in fact, responsible for his brother’s death. All of this happened after yesterday’s conversation when he proposed for us to go into business together, admitted that he wants our marriage of convenience to be a real marriage, then, quite possibly, confessed he’s in love with me. Of course, he wouldn’t say it straight out because of what we put about sayingI love youon our list. We never intended to fall for each other.

Unless he did intend exactly that.

Has he been in love with me all this time? Could getting me to fall in love with him have been his real endgame all along?

Then here I am, after he bared his soul, upset he was only 90 percent transparent about his motivations for marrying me, of which he’s already apologized for, something else my parents and uncle have yet to do: apologize. Not only that, but Aaron also tried to talk to me about it this morning, tried to get to the heart of what’s bothering me in an effort to fix this—yet another thing my parents haven’t tried to do: repair our relationship. And what do I do? I lump his behavior with theirs. I brush him off. I push him away. I tell him I need space. When I should have stood up for him to his mother. And behind him. And beside him. And ...

My arms fall to my sides. “I’m a terrible person.” I’ve been caught so off guard. Kaye’s dinner was all shock and awe. I mean, who behaves like that? I shouldn’t have let her get away with how she treated my husband.

“No, you’re not.” Emi’s mouth purses to the side, her way of saying “I told you so” without actually saying it. “But am I right to guess you figured out this was a simple case of crossed wires with a man who obviously adores you because you do mean something to him?”

“What have I done?” He’s going to leave me. He’s going to give me the divorce I asked for.

“You had a misunderstanding. Nothing any other married couple hasn’t experienced before. Big question is, do you want to stay married?”

My head nods all on its own.Wow.I did not see this coming. But I can’t imagine not having Aaron in my life.

“Do you want to go into business with him? Because, damn girl, with his industry experience and connections and your wood skills and that building he owns. And, fuck,” she says, laughing. “Everything is awesome! Watch out, Savant House. You two have it going on. You’re like the next Chip and Joanna Gaines. I’m seeing a reality show on HGTV. A podcast about couples going into business together and succeeding.”

“Okay, okay, don’t get carried away. But yes. Yes, I want it all. I’m so fucking scared, but I want it. I want him. Oh my gosh, I’ve been so selfish, Emi. I need to go talk to him. I’m sorry, I have to go.” I hurriedly pick up my untouched plate.

“Leave it.” Emi snags the plate before I drop the lasagna in my flustered state, and I rush for the door. “Don’t forget to tell him you love him too,” she hollers after me.

I stop, turning back to her with huge eyes and splayed fingers, my mouth gaping open.

She’s grinning.

Do I love him?

Yes, yes, I do. I am in love with Aaron Borland.My husband.

What I feel for him is vastly different from what I’ve previously felt with anyone. It’s more vibrant and richer and unyielding and never-ending. I just know without a doubt that with this kind of love, I can have it all—Aaron, my craft, our business. It’s the kind of love I wouldn’t risk losing any more than I’d risk giving up one for the other.

I squeal and, after running back to Emi, throw my arms around her. “Thank you for everything.”

“I want all the details later,” Emi shouts before I shut her door, and I laugh.

I order a ride so I can get to Aaron faster. Then I text him I’m on my way home, and that yes, I’m ready to talk. I’m so elated to see him, to tell him everything I’m feeling, that when I arrive, I throw open the door and shout, “I’m home!”

But Aaron isn’t alone. I catch him and Fallon in a tight embrace. They jump apart at my sudden appearance.

I look between them. “What’s going on?”

Fallon glances away and dabs her face, but not before I notice her red and swollen eyes. She’s been crying. Aaron turns to me in a daze, his mouth slack and turned down at the corners. He says my name, then two words that destroy everything I’ve just convinced myself I could have.

“Fallon’s pregnant.”

All the epiphanies I rushed over here to tell Aaron wither and die on my tongue. I look to Fallon for confirmation. She nods tightly, hugging her arms. And I see it, their future. Them as parents cooing over a perfectly swaddled baby with a full life ahead. Dance lessons, soccer games, piano practices, birthday parties, family vacations, movie nights.

Then I see something else: my part in this family as Aaron’s wife and the stepmother of his child. Parenthood will be an all-consuming role because I won’t be like my parents. I will love and value Aaron’s baby as much as I love and value him. But with the significant demand on my time and attention that raising a child requires, where does that leave room for my pursuits? How am I supposed to balance the passion for my craft, a marriage, and launching a business with Aaron,andparenthood?

No. I shake my head, hardly aware I’m backing away. I was fooling myself earlier. As much as I want it all, I can’t manage it all, not according to my track record. Aaron will come to resent me, and the thought of disappointing him is too much.

“I’m sorry,” Aaron says, so impassioned that I barely keep a lid on the emotions threatening to boil over inside me.

“Don’t apologize. Not for this.” Fallon didn’t get pregnant to trap Aaron, not when she’s the one who broke up with him. And she didn’t get pregnant to break us up. I’ve been married to Aaron for only a few weeks. I wasn’t even in the picture when she conceived. “I guess congratulations are in order.”

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