I watch Julian with Cooper—patient, playful, gentle. Building Legos on the floor, making funny sound effects.
I’m sure he’ll make an incredible father someday—patient and present in a way that seems to come naturally to him, like he was born knowing exactly how to make a kid feel seen and special.
It just won't be with me.
The thought cuts deeper than it should.
We're halfway to the car when I stop walking.
"Julian."
He turns, key fob dangling from his fingers.
"I can't come to any more meetings."
His face falls, the hope draining from his expression in an instant. "What? Why?" The devastation in his voice is unmistakable, raw and unguarded. He looks like I've just told him something far worse than me quitting the meetings.
"I just—" I stare at the cracked sidewalk. "It's not a good idea."
"Liza, talk to me."
"I'm attracted to you." The confession spills from my lips before I can stop it, raw and honest. My cheeks flush hot with embarrassment and relief at finally saying it out loud. "Every time you look at me, I die a little. And I'm with someone. Daniel. I live with him, and this—" I gesture helplessly between us, "—whatever this is, it isn't fair. Not to you, not to him, not to anyone involved in this mess."
Silence stretches between us. A car passes, headlights sweeping across his face.
"I feel the same way about you." His voice drops to barely above a whisper, rough with emotion. "You're all I think about, Liza. Every waking moment. You're all I dream about when I fall asleep."
My breath catches. I knew there was something, but hearing him say it—
"How serious are you with this guy?"
"I live with him."
"That's not what I asked." He steps closer. "Is he good to you?"
Daniel's face flashes through my mind. The way he pays for everything, cooks elaborate meals, and holds me at night. But also—the way he criticizes my clothes, my job, my TV shows. The way he made me feel fat. The rage in his eyes at the restaurant.
I open my mouth. Nothing comes out.
"Liza." Julian moves closer. "Is he good to you?"
My heart pounds against my ribs.
"I—"
Before I can answer, before I can even process what's happening, he closes the distance between us. His mouthfinds mine with an urgency that steals my breath. The kiss is desperate and searching, like he's been drowning and I'm air.
His lips slide against mine with an urgency that makes my knees weak, and I feel myself responding despite every rational thought screaming that this is so, so wrong.
Everything disappears. The parking lot, the world, every single reason this is wrong. His mouth is hot, but soft and demanding, and perfect. His hands cup my jaw, thumbs brushing my cheeks. I melt into him, fingers gripping his jacket, pulling him closer.
Heat floods through me—reckless, guilty, out of control. The kiss deepens, and I lose myself completely in the taste of him, the feel of his mouth on mine, the way he holds me like I'm something precious and breakable and worth fighting for.
I push him away, gasping.
"I'm sorry." He steps back immediately. "I shouldn't have—"
"It's okay."
