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Leaving New York, potentially being pregnant, Ryan saying he doesn't want to be a dad. It's all too much.
But there's one thing I can focus on.
"I'm just...imagining," I smile. "A door painted blue. Dresses in the window, a chalkboard with services offered right here by the door. Setting up shop downstairs and..."
"And what?"
"And maybe turning the upstairs into our home," I say, turning to face him. "A place where we can start our own family."
Ryan's eyes widen in surprise, and for a few moments, he seems speechless. I want him to give in—to tell me yes, that's what he wants, too, to pull me into his arms so we can start our happily ever after here and now.
But he frowns.
"Sophia...we talked about this," he says. "I'm too old—"
"I don't know why you're suddenly so worried about your age," I interrupt.
"Isn't it obvious?" he says. "It's because of my dad."
"What about him?"
"I'll be his age sooner than later," Ryan says, "and if I had a kid, that kid would only know me as an old man. And they would lose me, Sophia. You would lose me earlier than you deserve."
That stops me short, and I stare up at him, speechless. Neither of us says anything for a long time until I finally reach out and take his hand.
"Can we walk?" I ask.
His expression softens, his voice quiet. "Let's walk."
We walk down the street hand in hand toward a little park at the end of the row of shops. Kids are playing here, trees are blooming, and we walk until we find an empty bench and sit down. Ryan leans forward and puts his head in his hands, exhaling heavily.
"I didn't know this was bothering you that much," I say. "I mean…I knew you were worried about your dad, but this...I honestly didn't expect this."
"It's not just my dad," Ryan says, his voice muffled by his hands. "It's me. I'm not ready to be a dad. I don't know if I ever will be."
I watch him for a bit, quietly processing his words. I've thought about this, too, about the possibility of not having kids,but I've always envisioned a future where we do. Our own little family, a happy life filled with love and laughter.
But maybe that's not in the cards for us.
"Ryan," I say, reaching out to touch his shoulder. "I understand your fears. I do. But...I can't pretend that this isn't something I want. Something I need."
"I know," he says, looking up at me. "And I'm so sorry. I just...I can't help how I feel."
"What does this mean for us?" I ask.
Ryan takes a deep breath and looks away, out at the park. "I don't know," he says. "I wish I did. I wish I could give you the answers you need."
I pull away from him, feeling hurt and frustrated. It's easy enough for Ryan to say he doesn't want a family, but he already has one—and I've been alone for a long time.
I want things he doesn't.
That hurts like hell.
Especially when this baby might already be a reality.
"I can't wait forever, Ryan," I say. "I need to know if we're on the same page, if we want the same things. I can't just keep hoping you'll change your mind one day."
"I know," he says, his voice hoarse. "I'm not asking you to wait. I just need some time to figure things out. To figure out what I really want, what I'm ready for."
