“You sonofabitch!” I hear Carter say behind me. “I listened to your whole damn sob story, and now you’re telling me you got my sister pregnant?”

I close the door before I can hear Easton’s response. The porch swing is either too high or I’m too short, because my feet dangle a good foot off the ground as I let the swing rock me back and forth.

When the door opens again, I look up expecting to see Teagan, but it’s Easton stepping out onto the porch with me. Easton, who doesn’t want to raise another man’s baby again. Easton, who just wants a simple life where he can focus on his daughter and avoid all the drama.

He studies the spot next to me, and whether because of my mood or because he can’t stomach the thought of being that close to me right now, he seems to think better of sitting there and leans against the porch rail instead. His jaw ticks as he stares at me. “You’re pregnant.”

I nod jerkily.

“And it’s not . . .”

I shake my head. I wish it were Easton’s. The thought takes me back to when I was twenty years old and so immature, trying to wish myself pregnant so maybe he’d choose me over Scarlett. But of course, I wasn’t. Easton was always too careful for that.

He pivots and faces the street. Good. Maybe this’ll be easier if I can’t see his face. Even if . . . even if watching him turn his back on me shakes me at my fault lines.

“I didn’t know until this week,” I say. I cannot stand the idea of him thinking even for a minute that I’m like his ex-wife—that I would have deceived him the way she did.

“That’s why you asked, though,” he says. “Monday . . . when you asked if I’d make the same choice.”

I swallow. “I know you probably don’t want to talk to me right now, and I don’t blame you. I’m leaving for the airport in the morning.”

He spins to face me. “What?”

“For the interview in L.A.”

“Your brother’s getting married on Saturday.”

That’s what he’s worried about? That I’ll miss the wedding? “I’ll be home in time for the family dinner Friday night, no worries.”

“I mean . . . You’ve put family first. You decided to stay, and now you’re gonna run away and leave them all behind?”

I don’t want to talk about moving away from my family. I just . . . can’t. I shrug uselessly.

“Does he know?”

“He knows.”

“And is he going to L.A. with you?”