Page 49 of Shattered

“We’re taking our time, Mrs. Santoro. Want to make sure we’re ready.” Jake said smoothly.

“That’s wise,” Elena agreed, nodding like he’d said something profound. “But don’t wait too long. Children need young parents.”

I stood abruptly. My chair scraped against the floor loud enough that everyone looked at me.

“Bathroom,” I said, not waiting for acknowledgment. Not trusting myself to sit there another second without saying something I couldn’t take back.

The bathroom was small and old-fashioned. I turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on my face. Once. Twice. Threetimes until my hands were shaking and water dripped down my jaw onto my shirt.

I gripped the edge of the sink and stared at my reflection.

Daniel found me there five minutes later. He didn’t knock. Just opened the door and leaned against the frame with his arms crossed.

“You okay?”

“Fine.”

“You look like you want to commit murder.”

I didn’t deny it. Couldn’t deny it. “I’m fine,” I repeated anyway.

“Axel.” Daniel’s voice dropped lower. Serious in that way he got when he was about to say something I didn’t want to hear. “You know Jake has always been good at getting what he wants, right? He’s charming. He’s persistent. And Delia’s vulnerable right now.”

“I know.”

“So maybe you should tell her how you actually feel. Instead of playing the supportive friend while she drifts back to someone who hurt her.”

“It’s not that simple.”

It’s exactly that simple, Axel. You’re the only one pretending it isn’t.” Daniel pushed off the doorframe. “Either you want her or you don’t. And if you do, you need to stop being so damn noble about it and actually tell her.”

“She needs to make her own choice.”

“She can’t make an informed choice if she doesn’t know all her options.”

I looked at him. Daniel had been more than a friend. A brother.

He had found out about my feelings for Delia probably longer than I’d been willing to admit them to myself. And now he was standing here telling me to risk everything.

“What if I tell her and she chooses him anyway?” The question came out quietly, doubt creeping in.

“Then at least you tried. Which is better than sitting here watching Jake win by default.”

After dinner, Jake asked Delia to help carry dishes to the kitchen. My whole body went tight watching them go. Through the doorway I could see Jake corner her by the sink, talking earnestly with his hands moving in gestures that looked apologetic. Sincere.

She stood there with her arms crossed at first. Defensive. But slowly, so slowly I could track each moment it happened, her posture started to loosen. Her arms uncrossed. Her expression softened.

Then Jake reached for her hand.

She didn’t pull away.

Not immediately. Not like someone who’d decided she was done with him.

“Stop torturing yourself,” Daniel muttered beside me.

I turned away from the doorway. Helped Maria clear the rest of the table even though my hands felt numb, my chest hollow. Tried not to think about what Jake was saying that was making Delia look at him like maybe, possibly, he deserved another chance.

The drive back to Brooklyn felt longer than the drive there. Delia stared out the window while I navigated traffic and tried to think about anything other than Jake’s hand on her arm.