All Chapters of My Brother's Best Friend's Secret Baby: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

"I couldn't," I said. "I know that's not enough of an explanation. But at the time, it was all I was capable of." "You were nineteen." "Yes." "You were alone." "Yes." "Rosie." His voice cracked when he said my name. Just a little. Just enough. "You were alone all that time. Lucy's entire life. You carried all of it by yourself." "Not entirely." I thought of Mrs. Willow. The teachers at the schools where I'd worked. The small, peaceful community I'd built on the edges of my loneliness. "I had people." "You didn't have family." I had no answer to that. Silence settled between us. I could hear him breathing on the other end of the line, steadying himself the way he always had when things got hard. My brother wasn't someone who fell apart easily. He had been built from the same mold as our father. Calm under pressure, able to keep moving no matter how difficult things became. But in that moment, something was breaking through the calm, and I could feel it. "Tell me ab

"I know," I said. We took Lucy to the park, where Jeffery got a complete crash course on shark species, the structural integrity of the playground equipment, and the ongoing situation with Daniel. He listened with absolute focus, like a man who had decided that nothing else in the world mattered. He pushed her on the swings. He lost a race to the old oak tree. He sat with her on a bench while she explained the problem with Daniel, then offered tactical advice that she found entirely satisfactory. By the time we got back to the apartment, Lucy had decided that Uncle Jeffery was awesome. After dinner, she put on a show for him. I hadn't suggested it or planned it. It had been entirely Lucy's idea. She disappeared into her bedroom for ten minutes, then came back carrying three stuffed animals, a piece of fabric to use as a stage curtain, and an entire storyline she'd apparently invented while she was gone. The cast included a bear named Captain, a rabbit named Professor, and a

"I know." "You don't get to say, 'I know.' Don't tell me you know." He wasn't shouting. That almost made it worse. His voice was calm, low, and deadly serious. "She left because of you. She spent seven years alone because of what you did. She raised my niece by herself, working two jobs, in an apartment I haven't even seen yet, but I can picture it well enough. "And she did all of that because of one night when you decided your fear of commitment, or whatever the hell it was, mattered more than the nineteen-year-old girl who'd given you her heart." I took in every word. "And there's a kid," he continued. "A little six-year-old girl who grew up without ever knowing her father because you couldn't be honest about your engagement before you got involved with her mother." "You're right," I said. "I know I'm right." His fists were still raised. "I know I'm right about every damn bit of it." "Then hit me again if it'll help." He stared at me. Something shifted in his

Rosalie's POV He'd needed somewhere to put all of it. So he'd left it in the parking lot outside the Cornerstone gym. And Aiden had stood there and taken it. "Are things going to be okay between you and Jeffery?" I asked. His expression shifted. For a moment, he looked toward the playground, where Lucy was soaring back and forth on the swings, her hair flying behind her in the wind. Then he looked back at me. "I don't know." He said it honestly. Not to manage my expectations. Not out of false humility. He genuinely didn't know. That mattered more to me than a reassuring answer ever could have. I could see that it mattered to him too. It was there in the weight behind his words, a weight that had nothing to do with guilt and everything to do with loss. Fifteen years of friendship. The kind forged in basic training and strengthened through deployments, distance, and the uniquely intimate bond shared by people who had survived difficult things together. A

Rosalie's POV Then Dr. Harper asked about conflict resolution. The tension settled right back between us. She asked how we each responded when disagreements arose. "I shut down," I said. "Is that helpful?" she asked. "Sometimes," I answered. "It depends on the situation." She asked Aiden the same question. He admitted that he had a habit of making decisions and acting on them faster than he should. She asked whether he understood why that was a problem. He said he did. She asked what he intended to do differently. He was quiet for a moment before answering. "I'm trying to ask questions instead of making decisions." This time, Dr. Harper made a much longer note. With about ten minutes left, she set her notepad on the coffee table and looked at both of us. "I'd like to share an observation," she said. "I want you to hear it as an observation, not as a judgment. "You both love your daughter very deeply. That's obvious. It came through in everything you sa