chapter 5:the meet-up

The text came in at 8:47 p.m.

Olivia: Can we talk? In person.

Nathan stared at the message for a long time. Long enough that the screen dimmed and locked. He tapped it awake again, reread the words, and still didn’t move.

She knew. Or maybe she didn’t know he knew. Maybe she wanted to say it herself. Either way, it was coming. The conversation. The fallout.

He was still in his office, the building long quiet. Just the hum of the city beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows and the soft whir of the AC. He hadn’t left since that morning, since the HR meeting he barely remembered because he’d spent most of it wondering if Olivia had noticed how pale he looked. How he couldn’t meet her eyes.

He hadn’t been able to think straight since he overheard the conversation between her and Cassie two days ago. It played on a loop in his head.

"I’m pregnant."

"Does he know?"

"No."

Except now he did. And she knew he knew. Probably. Possibly. God, he was spinning.

He grabbed his phone, typed a response, then deleted it. Repeated that twice before settling on:

Nathan: Yeah. Just say where.

A few seconds later, her reply came in.

Olivia: The little café near the office. 9:30?

He looked at the time. Enough to go home and change, maybe shower and pretend he hadn’t been spiraling in his office all day. But he didn’t move.

Instead, he stayed seated until 9:10, then finally pushed himself to his feet.

---

The café was mostly empty when he got there. It always had this warm, amber lighting that felt too cozy for what tonight was about.

Olivia was already there, tucked into a booth at the back. She hadn’t seen him yet, which gave him a second to breathe. Her hands were wrapped around a mug, fingers tight, knuckles pale. She looked tired. Not physically—though there were faint shadows under her eyes—but emotionally. Like she’d fought herself just to come here.

He cleared his throat softly as he approached. Her head snapped up.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey."

He slid into the booth across from her. A waitress hovered nearby but Olivia shook her head. Nathan waved her off too.

For a second, neither of them spoke.

"So..." Olivia started, voice thinner than usual.

"You don’t have to say it," he interrupted, leaning forward. "I heard. That day. Outside your office."

Her face went completely still. "You heard?"

"Yeah."

A beat passed.

"And you didn’t say anything?"

"You hadn’t told me. I figured you—I don’t know, maybe you didn’t want to. Or you were still figuring it out. I didn’t want to ambush you."

She blinked. "That… that’s weirdly considerate."

He almost smiled. Almost. But the weight of the situation pulled his expression flat again.

"Are you okay?" he asked, surprising even himself with how much the question mattered to him.

Olivia looked down at her mug. "Define okay."

"Right," he murmured. "Stupid question."

Another long pause. Then, she said, "It’s real. I took five tests. I’ve been to the doctor. I’m about seven weeks."

Seven weeks.

That lined up. Too perfectly.

He exhaled and sat back, dragging a hand down his face. "Jesus."

"I didn’t plan this," she said quickly. "Obviously. And I don’t expect anything from you. I just… I needed to tell you. You deserve to know."

Her voice trembled at the end, and that cracked something in him.

"I don’t want to walk away from this," he said. The words surprised them both.

Olivia blinked. "What?"

"I mean, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, but I’m not the guy who just disappears. I want to… I want to figure this out."

Her brows lifted slightly. Suspicion. Hope. Maybe both.

"You don’t even know me," she said. "We slept together once. You hired me the next day. This isn’t exactly a fairy tale."

"No. But it’s reality now. And I don’t want you to go through it alone."

She looked away. Her jaw clenched. "It’s not just about being there. It’s about meaning it. You can’t just show up when it’s convenient, Nathan."

"I know. And I won’t."

God, he hoped he was telling the truth.

He wasn’t a commitment guy. He’d made that clear in every past relationship—brief, unattached, simple. But this wasn’t about relationships now. It was about a human being. A kid. Their kid.

His stomach twisted again.

"Are you planning to keep it?" he asked carefully.

Olivia nodded slowly. "Yeah. I am."

That settled something in him. Scared the hell out of him too.

"Okay," he said. "Then I’m in. Whatever that means. We’ll figure it out."

She laughed. Not a happy one. More disbelieving. "You make it sound easy."

"It’s not. I know it’s not. But I can try. We can talk. Make plans. Co-parent. Whatever you need."

She stared at him, searching. "Why are you being so calm about this?"

"I’m not," he admitted. "I’m losing my mind internally. But losing it doesn’t help either of us."

Her eyes softened slightly.

"You know HR is going to have a field day with this, right?"

He groaned. "Don’t remind me. We’ll deal with that too. One mess at a time."

"This is going to be more than messy."

He nodded. "I know. But I don’t want to make it harder by running from it."

They sat in silence for a while longer. The café buzzed softly around them. Someone laughed near the counter. A spoon clinked against a mug. Normal life, still happening, while theirs flipped upside down.

Finally, Olivia stood. "Thanks for coming. I didn’t know if you would."

He stood too. "Thanks for texting. I didn’t know if you would."

A small smile touched her lips. Brief. Fragile. But it was there.

"I guess we both surprised each other," she said.

"Guess so."

They stepped outside together. The air was cool. Spring just starting to lean toward summer.

"Want me to walk you home?" he asked.

She hesitated. Then shook her head. "I need a little space tonight."

"Okay."

He watched her walk away, each step carrying a weight he couldn’t quite touch yet. But he would. He had to. He wasn’t ready to be a father. But he was going to be one anyway. And maybe, just maybe, he could rise to the occasion.

He took a deep breath, then headed in the opposite direction, heart pounding, future uncertain, but one thing very clear: nothing would ever be the same again.