Maya arrived twenty minutes later, hair in a high ponytail, wearing a band tee I recognized as Cal’s merch from two tours ago, slightly oversized like she wanted to look casual but intentional.
“Hey, Mrs. Parker,” she said brightly.
“Hadley,” I corrected gently. “Just Hadley.”
She smiled, a quick, rehearsed flicker. “Right. Sorry.”
Cal glanced at me, subtle question in his eyes, asking if he should say something, intervene, support. I shook my head once. Not yet.
Later, after Maya left and Eli was in his room gaming loud enough that I could hear explosions through the walls, Cal sat beside me on the couch, stretching his legs out with a tired sigh.
“She’s… enthusiastic,” he said carefully.
“She likes the perks,” I muttered, flipping through flashcards.
“Maybe,” he agreed. “But Eli likes her. And he’s never had that before. Let him have it until it hurts.”
I sighed, dropping the cards onto my lap. “I hate when you’re right.”
He bumped my shoulder gently. “Happens sometimes.”
We sat in comfortable silence for a while, the kind that didn’t need filling. Asher crawled over, pulled himself up on Cal’s knee with determined grunts, and babbled something that sounded suspiciously like “da-da.”
Cal’s entire body stilled, like time paused around him.
“Did you hear that?” he whispered, voice cracking around the edges.
“I did,” I said softly, my chest tightening watching his reaction.
He lifted Asher carefully, like he was holding something sacred, his hands gentler than I’d ever seen them. “Hey, buddy… you talking to me already?”
Asher squealed and grabbed his collar, drooling enthusiastically down the front of his shirt.
Cal laughed, but tears slipped down his face anyway, tracking silently along his cheekbones. He kissed Asher’s belly, his cheeks, his tiny hands, overwhelmed and unashamed of it.
Then he looked at me, eyes raw, honest, open in a way that made my heart stutter painfully.
“I still love you,” he said quietly. “I know we’re friends. Co-parents. I’m not asking for more. I’m not trying to complicate anything. I just… I don’t ever want you to think that changed. It didn’t. It just grew up.”
Emotion pressed hard against my ribs, making it difficult to breathe evenly.
“I know,” I whispered.
He searched my face, careful, respectful, giving me room to retreat if I needed to. “Does it… make things harder? Me saying it?”
I shook my head slowly. “No. It makes things honest.”
He exhaled softly, relief flickering across his expression like sunlight breaking through clouds.
“I’m not waiting for you,” he added gently. “Not in a way that traps you. I’m just… here. Doing the work. Loving you quietly. Loving him loudly. And if someday that overlaps again… great. If it doesn’t… I’ll still be grateful I got to love you at all.”
My throat tightened painfully, emotions tangling in ways I couldn’t name without unraveling something fragile.
“Cal…” I started, then stopped, words dissolving before they formed.
He nodded, rescuing me from having to answer. “You don’t have to say anything. You choosing yourself is part of why I fell in love with you in the first place.”
I was choosing myself.
