Page 79 of Your Second Chance
“Not my place.”
Maybe it wasn’t her place to tell him, but she didn’t exactly seem shy about hinting at the bombshell either.
I rubbed my temples, trying to steady myself. “It’s complicated,” I mumbled, knowing I couldn’t avoid explaining much longer.
“I like complicated.” He pulled the chair toward my bed.
“I’ll go grab something to eat and check when they’re letting you out of here.” Luna slung her bag over her shoulder.
Ollie dragged the chair closer, sitting down with his elbows on his knees, his face steady and serious. “What’s wrong?”
I shook my head, turning away, my fingers curling into the blanket. Telling the truth was impossible. It was easier to let it sit there, to coat it with an easier lie, one that didn’t rip everything open. Lies didn’t hurt the way the truth did. The truth was brutal. The truth meant my daughter had an addictfor a biological father, and that no matter what I did, I couldn’t rewrite that.
“Tell me, love.” He wasn’t pushing, wasn’t demanding, only waiting, steady as always.
And that was the worst part—because it made me want to tell him everything.
It all spilled out, the words tumbling from me before I could stop them. The call to Austin, the way the rehab worker mentioned so casually he’d need another six months in intensive care, making it nearly a year. Knowing when he got out, I’d have to tell him about my daughter. The thought of him—an addict—being around her had me trembling because I remembered exactly what he did to me when he was high.
The panic bubbled up as I admitted everything—how Luna had suggested I tell his mom and how I’d shut it down immediately, knowing it would only make things messier. My voice cracked when I got to the check, the number printed on it feeling too large and unreal to process.
“One point four million.” I stared at my trembling hands. “It’s part of the divorce settlement. Or guilt money. Or both.” The words tasted bitter, and I pressed my lips together, forcing myself to breathe.
Ollie stayed silent, reaching out to rest his hands on mine, grounding me. He didn’t flinch or interrupt.
“I didn’t know what to do,” I muttered. “Then I lost it, and here I am.” I gestured around us to the hospital room we were currently in.
“You didn’t lose it, Nova,” he said softly, tangling his fingers with mine.
I gripped him tight.
“I wish you’d called me.”
“It happened so fast,” I admitted. “I couldn’t stop the thoughts from spiraling. Once they started, there was no pausing them.”
My shoulders slumped as the weight of everything settled in again, but his grip stayed firm, his thumb brushing lightly over my knuckles.
“I have a solution.” He slipped his hand from mine, only to rest it on the swell of my stomach. The warmth of his palm sent a ripple of emotion through me as he continued. “I was so worried when Luna called and said you were here. I was worried for you, but also for her.” He gestured toward my stomach with a slight tilt of his head, and I followed his gaze. “You’re not going to like it.”
I huffed out a weak attempt at a laugh, shaking my head. “Of course I’m not.”
His hand stayed where it was, his fingers splayed protectively. “We go public,” he said firmly. “Take a few photos for the paps. We don’t show her face ever, but announce you’re pregnant. We don’t correct anyone, but we don’t lie, either.”
“Lying by omission,” I murmured, turning the idea over in my mind.
He shrugged slightly, his eyes never leaving mine. “We aren’t exactly lying—just not correcting anyone. There’s a difference.”
It was genius. The plan wasn’t about controlling the narrative; it was about shielding her from the fallout. If we went public, there would be no questions, no assumptions about paternity. By staying vague, no one would have the ammunition to dig deeper.
We weren’t massive celebrities, but we weren’t invisible either. My name had already appeared in articles—usually linked to Austin—and Ollie, while not a global name, was still a local celebrity. A few photos, a soft announcement, and the presswould run with it: A couple expecting a child. Clean. Simple. Contained.
There wouldn’t be any need to tell Austin. No need for his family to get involved.
My throat tightened. “I can’t raise a baby with an alcoholic, Ollie. I just... can’t. He’s trying, I know he is, but what if this sends him spiraling again? What if it becomes a reason to drink instead of a reason to stay sober?”
His expression softened, but he didn’t speak. He didn’t have to. The silence between us was heavy with understanding.
The simplicity of the plan gave it strength. It created distance from the truth without outright lying, offering just enough to satisfy curiosity while keeping the most important details locked away. But it hinged on one thing—admitting publicly that Ollie and I were together.
