She opens the door and I say the one thing I know to be true. “If I said yes to you right now, it would be coming from a place of fear.” I take a deep breath. “I know I’d get to be a dad and that’s something I’ve always wanted. But it’s not the only thing. Because that dream has someone else in it, too. Someone I love deeply for her own sake. Someone who loves me back just as fiercely. I can’t give up on that, Jordan.”

Jordan blinks at me. “I love you, Miles.”

“Do you?” I ask gently. “Or do you love the idea of me? Are you envisioning the four of us”—I gesture to her belly—“as a profile picture? The ‘likes’ pouring in?”

She scoffs. “That’s not fair.”

“You weren’t fair to me,” I say. “And if I came back now, I wouldn’t be fair to either of us. Or to Doug. Those are his kids, this is his family photo. Give him a chance to step up to the plate. Give him a chance to surprise you.”

She hesitates. “Like that time we caught him scarfing down a whole bag of Funyuns in the bathroom before class?” she asks softly.

“See? He’s not without his charms.”

She gives a small smile and pauses before she speaks again. “Is this because of that café girl?”

I can’t keep myself from flashing back to that first kiss with Zoey, when she was pretending to be my girlfriend just to help me save face with Jordan. “Yes. Even though I may have screwed that up. But it’s also because . . . we don’t belong together, Jordan.”

She stares down at her belly, cradling it. “My dream of a family had you in it, Miles. Because you were the first person I was with who made me want that.” She looks up at me. “I knew it was a long shot. But I had to try.”

“Try with Doug.”

CHAPTER 34 - ZOEY

CHAPTER 34

ZOEY

As the sole proprietor of Z to A, I’ve edited two college entrance essays and one corporate presentation. Not much money’s coming in—I offered discounts if they spread the word to other possible clients—but it feels good to be in charge of my life. I also tried out not one but two non-Crudité cafés, with mixed results. The first didn’t have free Wi-Fi (booo) but the second one had day-old chocolate croissants on offer, which IMO, beats the snot out of biscotti anytime.

The next day I drown my sorrows in a liquid lunch at the Half King. I’m two pints in, editing a corporate presentation for a far-flung trade show, feeling buzzed and disoriented in a city that, let’s face it, I’ve never belonged in, when a new e-mail comes in.