Chapter Six

OLIVIA'S POV

Marcus called at seven in the morning.

"The clinic in Portland wants a phone interview Thursday. And I found a two-bedroom apartment near a good school district. Affordable, first month covered by the signing bonus if you take the job."

"Send me everything."

"Olivia." His voice shifted. "Are you okay?"

"He knows."

Silence. Then: "How did he take it?"

"Calmly. Which was worse than anger." I moved to the window. The guest house lights were on. Emma was already awake. "He said he needed time to think."

"That's not a no."

"It's not a yes either. And I'm not waiting around to find out which way he lands." I pressed my forehead against the glass. "I need to be gone before he decides he wants custody out of obligation. I can't raise a child in a courtroom, Marcus."

"If you leave before the contract ends, he could sue for breach."

"Let him. I'll figure it out."

"That's not a plan."

"Thursday interview. Send me the apartment details." I hung up before he could argue further.

I got through breakfast without seeing Damien. Ethan ate quickly, kissed my cheek without being asked, and ran for the school bus. That small gesture nearly undid me. Five more weeks of this. Five more weeks of a boy who was finally healing, and then I would disappear from his life the way everyone else had.

I was clearing the table when Damien walked in.

He poured coffee and stood at the counter. Neither of us spoke for a moment.

"I called my lawyer this morning," he said.

My stomach tightened. "About custody?"

"About the contract. Specifically the clause that voids financial penalties if either party experiences a significant change in circumstances." He looked at me. "A pregnancy qualifies. You can leave early without penalty."

I set down the plate I was holding. "You're letting me go early."

"I'm telling you that you have options. I'm not forcing you to stay and I'm not forcing you to go." He set the coffee down. "But I want to be part of this child's life."

"As what? You're about to have a baby with Emma through a surrogate. You're rebuilding Catherine's family. Where exactly does my child fit into that?"

"Our child."

"Stop correcting me on that. It doesn't change anything."

He was quiet for a moment. "I haven't been fair to you. I know that. But running to Portland doesn't solve the fact that this baby exists and is mine."

"I'm not running. I'm building something stable before this baby arrives. There's a difference."

"Olivia—"

"What do you want, Damien? Specifically. Not in principle, not legally. What do you actually want?"

He opened his mouth and closed it again.

That was my answer.

"That's what I thought." I picked up my plate. "You don't know. And I'm not waiting around while you figure it out."

Emma found me in the laundry room an hour later.

She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "He told me."

"Did he."

"I want you to know I don't blame you. These things happen." Her tone was generous in the way that was designed to sting. "But you should understand that a baby doesn't change the foundation here. Damien and I have history. We have Catherine connecting us. A contract pregnancy isn't the same thing."

I folded a towel and set it aside. "Is there a point to this conversation?"

"The point is that you're planning to leave anyway. Don't let a baby complicate that plan. Damien will provide financially. He's not unreasonable. But don't mistake his guilt for something deeper."

"Emma." I turned to face her. "I know about you and Damien in college. I know why you introduced him to Catherine. I know why you volunteered to be involved in this surrogacy. I know exactly who you are and what you want."

Her expression didn't crack, but something shifted behind her eyes.

"So let me be clear," I continued. "I'm not leaving because you want me to. I'm leaving because it's right for my child. Those are completely different things. And if you ever speak to Ethan about me the way you apparently did last week, I will make sure Damien knows every detail of what you've been doing in this house."

She straightened. "You don't have any—"

"Victoria talks to me. Has for months." I picked up the laundry basket. "Excuse me."

She moved out of my way.

********************

That night I couldn't sleep.

I lay in the dark with my hand on my stomach, doing what I'd stopped letting myself do, imagining the baby. Whether they'd have my eyes or his. Whether they'd be quiet like Damien or loud like I was as a child, or so I'd been told by a foster mother who said it without kindness.

A knock at my door.

Damien.

He stood in the hallway looking like he hadn't slept either. "Can I come in?"

"It's late."

"I know." He stayed in the doorway. "I've been thinking about what you asked. What I actually want."

I waited.

"I don't want my child growing up not knowing me. I don't want to be a name on a document and a monthly deposit. I watched Ethan lose his mother and become someone I didn't recognize. I can't be absent for another child."

"That's about you. Not the baby."

"You're right. It is." He leaned against the doorframe. "But I'm asking you to consider something other than disappearing. I'm not asking you to stay in the contract. I'm not asking you to be something you're not. I'm asking you to stay in New York. Stay accessible. Let me be present."

"And Emma? The surrogate baby? The guest house?"

His jaw tightened. "I'm reconsidering some things."

"That's not an answer."

"I know. I don't have all the answers tonight." He looked at me directly. "But I'm asking you not to make any decisions until I do."

I said nothing for a long moment.

"You have one week," I finally said. "After that, I'm calling Portland back."

He nodded once and left.

I closed the door and stood with my back against it, heart hammering, telling myself I hadn't just given him hope I couldn't afford to give.