He was quiet for a long moment, his eyes searching mine. Then he did something unexpected. He placed his hand gently on my still-flat stomach.
"Can I tell you something I've been too scared to admit?" he asked softly.
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
"When you told me you were pregnant, my first reaction was panic. Pure, absolute terror." His hand stayed on my stomach, warm through my sweater. "But underneath that panic? There was something else. Something I didn't want to acknowledge."
"What?"
His eyes met mine. "Relief."
I blinked. "What?"
"Relief," he repeated. "Because for three weeks, I'd been trying to make myself feel something real for Jessica. Trying to convince myself that maybe this time, maybe with her, I could do the whole relationship thing. Get serious. Settle down."
My heart was pounding. "I don't understand."
"I was trying to move on," he said, his voice raw. "From you."
The air left my lungs.
"That night our night together I didn't want it to be just one night, Mira. But you made it clear that's all it could be. That we needed to pretend it never happened. So I tried. I met Jessica, and she was nice and pretty and uncomplicated. Everything between us could be easy, you know? No history, no risk of losing my best friend."
"Ethan"
"But I couldn't stop thinking about you," he continued, the words tumbling out like he'd been holding them back too long. "Every time I was with her, I was comparing her to you. When she laughed, it wasn't your laugh.
When she talked about her day, I didn't care the way I care when you tell me about yours. And I hated myself for it because she deserved better than being second choice."
Tears were streaming down my face now. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Because Jessica's wrong. You didn't trap me. That baby?" His hand pressed a little firmer against my stomach. "That baby saved me from making a huge mistake. From trying to build a life with someone I didn't love because I was too scared to admit who I really wanted."
"And who do you want?" I whispered, even though I was terrified of the answer.
His free hand came up to cup my face, his thumb brushing away my tears. "Isn't it obvious? I've wanted you for three years, Mira. I've just been too much of a coward to do anything about it."
The world seemed to tilt on its axis.
"You… what?"
"I'm in love with you," he said simply, like it was the most natural thing in the world. "I have been for years. And I'm terrified of being a father, but I'm more terrified of losing you. Of not getting to do this right."
"Do what right?"
"Us." His forehead rested against mine. "I want to do us right this time. Not as friends who pretend that night didn't happen. Not as two people who made a mistake. But as… as whatever we could be if we weren't both so scared."
My heart felt like it might burst out of my chest. "Ethan, I"
"You don't have to say anything," he interrupted quickly. "I know this is terrible timing. You're pregnant and emotional and dealing with enough without me dumping this on you. But I needed you to know.
Needed you to understand that I'm not here out of guilt or obligation. I'm here because I want to be. Because there's nowhere else I'd rather be."
I couldn't speak. Couldn't breathe.
Everything I'd wanted for three years was right in front of me, and I didn't know what to do with it.
"Say something," he pleaded. "Please. Even if it's just to tell me I'm an idiot for confessing all this now."
"You're an idiot," I managed, and he laughed shakily. "But I… Ethan, I've been in love with you too. For so long."
His breath caught. "You have?"
"Since the night you showed up with ice cream when my grandmother died. You held me while I cried and you didn't leave even though it was 2 AM on a Tuesday and you had work in the morning. That's when I knew."
"That was three years ago," he said, wonder in his voice.
"Three years of pretending I only wanted to be your friend." I laughed through my tears. "Three years of dying a little every time you dated someone else."
"Why didn't you say anything?"
"For the same reason you didn't. Because I was scared. Because losing you as a friend felt worse than never having you at all."
He pulled me closer, and suddenly his lips were on mine soft, desperate, perfect. The kiss was everything our first night together had been but more. Because this time, we weren't drunk. This time, we meant it.
When we finally broke apart, both breathless, he rested his forehead against mine again.
"So where does this leave us?" he asked.
"I don't know," I admitted. "Everything's still complicated. We're still having a baby, and we're still figuring out how to do this. But…"
"But?"
"But maybe we can figure it out together?" I offered tentatively. "Not as friends. As… as people who love each other and are really bad at admitting it?"
He grinned, that devastating smile that had gotten me into this mess in the first place. "I can work with that."
He kissed me again, slower this time, and I let myself believe that maybe just maybe this could work.
My phone buzzed on the coffee table. A text from Sage.
Sage: Just heard through the grapevine that Jessica is telling everyone you're a homewrecker who trapped Ethan. Want me to slash her tires? 🔪
I showed Ethan the text, and he groaned.
"I'll talk to her," he promised. "Make her stop spreading rumors."
"She's hurt," I said, surprising myself by defending her. "And angry. I probably would be too."
"You're a better person than me," Ethan muttered. "After the things she said to you, I want to"
"Hey." I touched his face, making him look at me. "We're not stooping to her level. We take the high road, and we focus on us. On this." I placed my hand over his on my stomach.
He softened, his anger fading. "You're right. As usual."
"I know," I teased. "You should get used to that. I'm going to be right about everything from now on. Pregnancy privilege."
He laughed, and it felt like coming home.
We sat there on my couch, his hand on my stomach, my head on his shoulder, and for the first time since I'd seen those two pink lines, I felt like maybe everything would be okay.
But of course, nothing is ever that simple.
My phone buzzed again. This time, it was a text from a number I did recognize.
My mother.
Mom: Mira, honey, someone named Jessica just called us. She said some very concerning things about you and Ethan. We need to talk. Call me ASAP.
I showed Ethan the message, and I watched the color drain from his face.
"She called your parents?" he said, horrified.
"Apparently."
"Mira, I'm so sorry"
"It's fine," I said, even though my stomach was churning. "I needed to tell them anyway. I guess now I don't have a choice."
"I'll go with you," he offered immediately. "We'll tell them together."
"You sure you want to sign up for that?" I asked. "My dad might actually kill you when he finds out you got his daughter pregnant."
Ethan's hand tightened on mine. "Then we'll die together."
Despite everything the drama, the fear, the uncertainty I laughed.
Because somehow, even in the middle of this beautiful disaster, Ethan Reed could still make me laugh.
And maybe that was enough.
Maybe that was everything.