Page 36 of Where the Little Birds Are (Little Bird Duet 2)

“When I felt you were ready.”

He draws back like I stabbed him.

Knowing he won’t let me walk away, I lift my shoulders stiffly. “You said you don’t love Lena, but you aren’t doing anything about it. I’ve seen the magazines. The tabloids. The stupid e-alerts. You’re still with her. Holding her hand. Hugging her. So don’t act offended that I made the best decision for us.”

Us. Me and baby.

Not me and Corbin.

The taste is sour in my mouth.

His next move is daring, his body pressing against mine as his hands draw mine out of the hoodie and pins them against the wall. “I did not come here to hear you give up on us, Little Bird. You may think your wing is broken, but it’ll heal. We’ll get through this.”

“It’s not that easy!”

“Why not?”

“Because we’re wrong for each other,” I tell him brokenly. “Society will never be okay with this relationship once they learn the truth. We’ll be labeled cheaters. I’ll be a homewrecker.”

“We’re right,” he argues. “And my home has been wrecked long before you showed up in California. I’m not just saying that.”

“Please?” I no longer know what I’m begging for.

Peace.

Salvation.

Closure.

Him.

Always him.

His fingers tighten around my wrist, keeping them against the wall so I can’t push him away like I tell myself to. “We’re getting a divorce.”

Four words.

Four words that change everything.

The way I think.

The labor of my breath.

My train of thought.

And my heart. My heart races and squeezes and warms and expands until I feel like I may combust.

“What?” is all I can fathom to say.

His lips twitch—not into a smile or frown, but the slightest upward slant that tells me all I need to know. “You’re right. Nothing about us is easy. It won’t be. People aren’t going to support us the way we’ll want them to. But you know what? Fuck them.”

“You can’t say things like that.”

“Can’t I?”

“Those people,” I reply, “are the reason you’re so successful. It matters what they think, just like my readers’ opinions matter to me.”

“I’m not saying they don’t.” He sighs. “I don’t know what you want me to say. Do you want me to tell you I’m pissed off that you’re pregnant? That I’m angry? I’m not. I’m surprised. But more than that? I’m fucking happy. If you don’t want to believe that this is a sign, then I will. How many years have we been apart? How many relationships have we failed all to come full circle? Things don’t just happen by coincidence. You flew to me. Broken wing or not, you found your way back to me.”

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