Chapter Thirty
The next few weeks dragged by, every day a fresh ache. I missed Cam. The wanting gnawed through me like a rash, spreading everywhere—I’d never known a headache like it, or the way tears could hammer in my temples until it felt like crying might make me hollow.
I knew I was the one who broke things off.
Logically, I should have felt relief or closure.
But nothing about it helped. Even with Cam swearing he wouldn’t see other people anymore, I couldn’t scrape away the memory of what he’d done.
Not just the baby, but how he’d gotten April's number and planned a secret meeting with her while we were supposed to be away together. I could replay it all, but I couldn’t let it go.
More than anything, I wanted to be the only woman my partner needed. I wanted to be enough.
Nate was doing everything he could to pull me closer, like he could hold my pieces together if he just tried hard enough.
He never outright asked for more, but I could feel he wanted something official, a promise or a tether.
I couldn’t do it yet. My divorce wasn’t final.
I hadn’t even called a lawyer, although Jake had given me a name.
He’d asked if his wife was the reason I was looking; I’d told him honestly, no.
April hadn’t done anything wrong. Her marriage had its own rules; she saw other people with Jake's blessing.
But mine with Cam—that was different. Cam had known my boundaries from the beginning and pushed them anyway.
Forced open a door and left me stranded on the threshold.
Maybe I could’ve ended it sooner, refused outright.
Either way, it would have been the end of us.
I believed that, down where the truth hurt most. If I’d said no, Cam would’ve cheated, or left.
That certainty was the only reason I tried at all.
But I was never truly on board. And in the end, I still lost him, and lost myself.
I could see now our marriage ended the night he first asked.
So, that’s what I’d told Jake. April wasn’t the reason for our split. Cam was.
Nate, though… he’d been my rock. If I cried, he was there. At work, he’d joke and distract me, protecting me from falling to pieces in front of customers or Mr. Porter. Sometimes he made me feel beautiful and wanted, but even then I was wading through old grief, letting him tug me through it.
I spent more nights at Nate’s apartment than at Rachel’s.
She and Jackson had been wonderful, but lately I was a third wheel, stuck in their orbit.
They even acted like they’d been married forever, which would have surprised me once.
Rachel had changed; she’d softened, steadied. Love looked good on her.
Jackson, though—the way he reacted to me being with Nate left me with questions.
He’d always reassure me it was fine, but when I crashed back into their place after staying with Nate, he’d fold me into a hug, searching my face.
Twice, I’d come home with tears running hot and wild down my cheeks, and both times Jackson looked me over like he expected bruises or worse.
“Did Nate do something?” The words startled me every time.
I told him no, that I just missed my husband. That was the truth, anyway.
It felt wrong, sobbing over Cam in Nate’s bed while Nate rubbed my back and whispered that it would be okay.
I knew I was hurting him—a man who wanted to be my new beginning, forced to watch me mourn what I’d already lost. But he never said a word in complaint.
He just held me, letting my sorrow spill out.
When the delivery guy showed up with another armful of red roses, I wanted to groan.
Even Nate looked annoyed, his brows knitting as he watched.
The shop overflowed with roses by now, every other day another dozen.
I didn’t want them, but it felt cruel to throw them away.
The flowers weren’t to blame; they deserved better.
The calls and texts from Cam never stopped. He pressed, always, desperate for me to talk to him. I knew I’d have to, eventually, but for now I just wanted breathing room. Time to close the wound. A little peace.
“Someone is definitely trying to say he’s sorry,” Mr. Porter said as he took the new vase from the delivery guy. “Maybe you should listen.”
His comment caught me off guard. He’d made a few remarks lately; he and Jackson both seemed uneasy about how much time I spent with Nate—which was surprising from Jackson since he’d encouraged me before that Nate was good for me.
Neither said it outright, but the message was there, silent and heavy.
Mr. Porter had even gone into a lecture about marriage—the lifelong commitment, the sanctity of working through hard seasons.
But he didn’t know my story, not really, and I wasn’t going to lay out my embarrassment for all to see.
Lately, he’d come in more often, even when he didn’t seem to feel well. He’d keep Nate and me separated at work, send one of us to the storeroom for any excuse. He told Nate, more than once, that his real job probably needed him, but Nate refused to leave me.
“Sometimes sorry isn’t enough. It can’t fix the past,” I managed, though it sounded dull even to me.
“No, but it can be an omen for a better future,” Mr. Porter answered.
“Leave her alone, Pops,” Nate said, voice sharper than I’d ever heard it. “She’s not required to forgive that asshole. Besides, she can’t just forget what happened if a baby is there as a constant reminder that her husband is a cheater.”
I stared, mortified; even Mr. Porter’s eyes went wide. I couldn’t believe Nate had just blurted out my private mess. Yes, Mr. Porter was his grandfather, but still—
Nate ran his hand over his face. “God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—it just spilled out. Forget I said that, Pops. I’m sorry. Livi, I’m so sorry.”
I forced myself to meet Mr. Porter’s shocked gaze.
“I’m sorry, Olivia,” he said quietly. “I assumed the man had strayed. But I didn’t realize there was a child involved.”
He remembered my infertility; I’d told him once, when he’d asked if I had any kids. He knew how deep this would cut.
I wiped my fingertip over a rose petal, letting its softness distract me, even though the gesture felt hollow.
“It’s not really cheating, not exactly,” I said. “It’s complicated. But yeah, the baby—that’s the deal breaker. Cam is getting his wish to be a dad, and I’m happy for him, I guess, but not like this. Not with someone else. I can’t do it.”
Mr. Porter nodded solemnly, moving the new bouquet over to a spare place in the window.
“But even the hardest things can be overcome, if there’s enough love to weather the storm.
Sometimes it’s a blessing in disguise. Why shouldn’t you get your wish to be a parent, too—even if it looks a little different than you imagined? ”
“Leave her alone, Pops.” Nate’s words came out low and hard. “She doesn’t want to raise her husband’s love child. She deserves someone who’s all hers, and a baby that isn’t tangled up in so much drama.”
“Nate,” I snapped, my own temper flaring, “None of this is the baby’s fault. Don’t talk like it’s a curse. A child being born isn’t a bad thing. I hope that baby has every happiness. I just can’t be the one to give it. And I know that. It’s better this way.”
Maybe I was trying to convince him. Maybe I was trying to convince myself. Either way, Mr. Porter just gave me a long, pitying look before shuffling off to the storeroom.
Nate crossed the space and pressed a soft kiss to my cheek, pulling me into his arms.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, lips close to my skin. “I just hate seeing you like this. I wish I could take it all away.”
“I know,” I murmured back. “I’m sorry I’m dragging you through the mess.”
“Don’t even think about me.” His hand slid up and down my spine, gentle and sure. “I just want you to be okay. Did you make the appointment yet?”
He meant the divorce lawyer. He’d been nudging me for weeks, soft reminders piling up. He was right—I needed to do it. The longer I delayed, the more unfair it was to Cam, giving him hope that would only wither. But the thought exhausted me.
“I should probably grab my stuff first.”
I’d been avoiding it. The idea of seeing Cam again tied my stomach in knots.
I could go when he’d be at work, but I didn’t want to miss my own shifts for it.
Finding my own place felt impossible now; rent had skyrocketed since Cam and I first moved in together.
With my salary, I barely scraped by. I hadn’t told Nate how tight things might get, not yet.
It wasn’t worth worrying him—not until I knew for sure what my choices were.
At least I had a car, even if the thought of paying for extra fuel made my chest tight.
“Let me come with you,” Nate said. “Tonight?”
I physically flinched. I’d just mentioned it, but the thought of actually going tonight?
Facing Cam so soon? My heart beat a little faster, but I needed my own clothes.
I’d been rotating the same few things, borrowing from Rachel, feeling guilty every time I touched her hangers. She never complained, but I cared.
“Yeah, I should go tonight.” I swallowed. “But you can’t come with me. I can’t do that to Cam.”
I felt Nate stiffen. “After everything he’s put you through, you’re still worried about hurting him?”
I pulled back, irritation prickling up my arms. “Yes. I am. Two wrongs don’t make a right, Nate.”
“You aren’t doing anything wrong,” he insisted. “He broke your trust; the old rules don’t count anymore.”
“I know, but we’re still married. He wanted to end the arrangement. Legally, what I’m doing with you counts as adultery.”
“You’re getting divorced.”
“But I’m not yet.”
“Are you ever going to be?”
For the first time since we’d met, I caught a real spark of anger in Nate’s eyes. Tight and frustrated, all the patience of these last weeks stacked up inside him.