Z doesn’t see the humor in my gripe. “Friends don’t usually ask friends to marry them.”

Do I share Ted’s secret? After the bomb he tried to drop on my life, I should. It still feels wrong, but it feels worse to keep any more secrets from Z. “Ted has a…complicated relationship with his family.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

I should’ve known an answer that vague wouldn’t satisfy Z.

My teeth sink into my bottom lip until it stings. I swipe my tongue over the spot and catch Z’s eyes following the movement. I don’t even have it in me to try and distract him with sex. Not when he’s been so patient and deserves some answers.

“Lilly?” he prompts.

“His family’s politically connected and he has certain obligations he’s supposed to fulfill.”

“Don’t tell me.” Z lets out a dark chuckle. “He’s gay and needs a wife for cover.”

When I don’t laugh, he cuts a look my way. “You’re kidding. Who still does that?”

“You’d be surprised.”

He snorts. “I thought California was so progressive.”

“Maybe. But his family isn’t. There’s an inheritance and he needs to be married…to a woman to collect it. When enough time had passed, we would’ve gotten divorced.”

“Why would you even consider something like that?”

I sigh and almost regret admitting this. “I know what it’s like to be scorned by your family for things that are out of your control. He helped me when I needed it and I wanted to do the same.”

By the way Z’s jaw keeps flexing, he’s having a hard time objecting to my reasoning.

“That’s it?”

“Well, I have a lot of…medical debt. From…before…and from when I had Chance and he was going to help me with that.”

“Lilly, that’s my responsibility. Not some guy who’s too spineless to tell his family to fuck off.”

Once again, in his own crude way, Z proves he’s so damn honorable I have no business being with him.

“Mommy?” Chance calls.

I breathe a sigh of relief.

“We’re not done,” Z says in a low voice, right before Chance shuffles into the living room.

Our son stands there, rubbing his eyes and pouting. “It was loud. And someone yelled.” He looks around the room, his gaze finally landing on Z. He scowls as if he blames Z for every new nocturnal noise in his life.

I’d laugh except there’s nothing funny about tonight. Instead, I hold out my hands and Chance eagerly runs over and lets me scoop him up. He puts his little arms around my neck and rests his cheek on my shoulder so he’s facing Z.

“Did you yell at Mommy?” The accusatory tone of the question might be downright hilarious under other circumstances.