Chapter Fifteen
TALLY
I’d been running myself ragged all morning—half event planner, half cheese monger, full-time emotional disaster. With Sylvie off in Cabo living her best life, I was holding down the fort at Cheese, Please! while prepping Hoyt and Charlotte’s elopement later that afternoon.
On paper, everything was handled. Eunice’s florist had delivered the flowers. Sutton’s cake was chilling in the back. My camera battery was fully charged. Pastor Donnelly was likely somewhere vibrating with excitement about his first Savannah elopement.
But my chest carried that restless hum—the one that made every sound too loud, every light too bright.
The bell over the door jingled.
“Be right with you!” I called, ducking behind the counter to grab champagne bottles from the cooler. My reflection in the glass looked unhinged: hair frizz halo, apron streaked with honey, the faint glow of someone pretending her life wasn’t unraveling inside an artisanal cheese shop.
I straightened, balancing three bottles on my swollen belly. “If you like Gouda, there’s a great potato chip variety that—”
“Hey, Tal.”
The bottles nearly slipped from my hands.
That voice.
I knew that voice.
My body knew before my brain caught up—stomach dropping, skin going cold, breath catching somewhere between my lungs and my throat.
Nick.
He stood by the cooler in a worn leather jacket I used to borrow when I got cold at the bar, hands shoved in his pockets as if he’d just wandered in for brie like any regular customer. His hair was still gel-slick, that lazy smirk tugging at his mouth—only now it looked smaller. Uncertain.
A faint bruise shadowed his temple. Dig’s handiwork. I fought down the smirk.
“What are you doing here?” My voice came out flat and distant. Like it belonged to someone else.
His gaze dropped to my belly right as the baby kicked.
Perfect timing.
His face changed—shock, then recognition, then something that might’ve been fear. “Shit,” he breathed. “So Dig wasn’t exaggerating.”
“You need to leave.” I set the champagne bottles down before I dropped them. My hands were shaking.
“Tally—”
“Now.”
He didn’t move, only stood there, staring at me like I was a problem he hadn’t planned for. “We need to talk.”
I bit out a sarcastic laugh. “No, we really don’t.”
“I came all the way to Savannah—”
“I didn’t ask you to.” My voice cracked despite my best efforts. “How did you even find me?”
“Your Instagram’s public,” he shrugged, like it was obvious. “And you’re tagged in every Cheese, Please! post. Wasn’t exactly hard.”
Of course. The one time social media actually worked, it led my ex straight to my door.
“The rumor mill went wild with this one. And Dig all but confirmed it when he tried to knock me out,” Nick continued, taking a step closer. “I needed to know for myself if it was true.”
“Well, now you know.” I crossed my arms over my chest—or tried to. My belly got in the way. “You can go.”
“Is it mine?”
The question hung in the air like smoke.
I stared at him. “Are you seriously asking me that right now?”
“I just need to know—”
“Yes, it’s yours!” The words came out louder than I meant. Somewhere behind me, a wheel of Manchego rolled off the shelf and thudded to the floor. “You were the only person I’d been with in like, a year. The math isn’t complicated.”
He held up his hands. “Okay. I’m sorry. I just—” He dragged a hand through his hair. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
A bitter laugh escaped. “You gave me a fake number, Nick. You ghosted me at the bar. What was I supposed to do, hire a private investigator?”
He winced. “I panicked, okay? We had one night—”
“We had three months,” I corrected. “Three months of you saying you wanted something real, that you were tired of hookups, that I was different.” My voice shook.
“And then the second I finally let you in and told you I had feelings for you, too, you disappeared. After you got what you wanted, of course.”
“That’s not—” He stopped, jaw working. “It wasn’t like that.”
“Then what was it like?”
He didn’t answer.
The silence stretched. Outside, a tour trolley rattled past, the guide’s cheerful voice muffed through the glass.
I sank into one of the bistro chairs near the window, my legs suddenly unreliable. The baby shifted, pressing against my ribs.
Nick sat across from me, elbows on his knees. “Look, I get that I screwed this up. But I’m here now. We can figure it out.”
“Figure what out?”
“Whatever you need. Money, support, if you, you know, want to… I can help.”
I shook my head. “I don’t need your money.”
“Tally, come on—”
“I don’t need anything from you,” I said firmly. “I’m fine.”
His eyes swept the shop—the apron, the cheese wheels, the small space that had become my refuge. “Are you? Because it looks like you’re working retail while pregnant and living with your brother.”
The judgment in his voice made my chest tight.
“I’m building a life here,” I said quietly. “I have work. I have friends. I’m figuring it out.”
“By yourself.”
“I’m not by myself.”
“Right.” He leaned back, something bitter crossing his face. “So there’s someone else.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“But there is.” It wasn’t a question.
Before I could answer, the back door banged open.
“Tally, you ready for—”
Charlie stopped mid-sentence.
His eyes landed on Nick, then flicked to me. I saw the moment he put it together—the tension in the air, my white-knuckled grip on the table, the stranger sitting across from me.
“Everything okay?” His voice was calm. Too calm.
Nick stood, extending a hand. “You must be the brother. I’m Nick.”
“Charlie,” he said flatly, ignoring the hand. “Not the brother.”
The silence went sharp.
Charlie crossed the room and stood behind my chair—not touching me, but close enough that I could feel the weight of him. Solid. Steady.
Nick’s eyes darted between us, and I watched understanding dawn. “Oh. So you’re—”
“A friend,” Charlie supplied.
Nick let out a humorless laugh. “Right. Friend. I used to be one of those to her, too.” He turned back to me. “This is why you didn’t call. You’ve already moved on.”
“No, I did call. You just gave me the wrong number, as I said.” I snapped. “And anyway its not like—“
“Looks pretty clear from where I’m standing.”
“You don’t get to do this,” I said, voice shaking. “You don’t get to show up after months and act like I owe you an explanation for my life.”
Nick’s jaw tightened. “I came here to make sure you were okay.”
I slammed my palm on the table between us. “I am okay.”
“Are you?” He gestured around the shop. “Because this doesn’t look okay. This looks like you’re hiding in the middle of nowhere, pretending everything’s fine when you’re about to have a baby alone.”
“She’s not alone,” Charlie said quietly.
Nick’s eyes snapped to him. “And who are you, exactly? The rebound? The backup plan?”
“Watch it,” Charlie warned.
“I’m just trying to understand how my—” Nick stopped himself. “How the mother of my kid ended up shacking up with some guy in Georgia.”
“I’m not shacking up with anyone,” I said, standing. “And even if I was, it’s none of your business.”
“It is if you’re pregnant with my child.”
“A child you didn’t want,” I shot back. “And don’t even pretend you do because if you didn’t want me, then you don’t want, or deserve, this.”
He flinched. “That’s not fair.”
“None of this is fair!” My voice cracked. “You don’t get to waltz in here and play concerned father after you made it clear you wanted nothing to do with me.”
“I’m here now,” he said, quieter. “Doesn’t that count for something?”
I looked at him—really looked at him. At the man I thought I knew, who turned out to be yet another person who couldn’t stay when things got hard.
“No,” I said finally. “It doesn’t.”
He stared at me for a long moment. Then he pulled out a business card and set it on the table. “That’s my real number. In case you change your mind.”
I didn’t touch it.
“But just know that I’m not that guy, Tal,” he said, backing toward the door. “I don’t know how to be a dad. I have plans—travel, my career. I can’t be stuck.”
“Then don’t be,” I said simply. “I’m not asking you to stay.”
Something flickered across his face—relief, maybe, mixed with shame.
“I hope it works out,” he said. “I really do. I’ll be outside waiting for my Uber if you want to talk about this more.”
The door chimed as he left and the shop fell silent except for the whirr of the wine cooler. I stood there, hands pressed flat against the table, trying to remember how to breathe.
Charlie crouched beside my chair. “You okay?”
I laughed—sharp, shaky, barely holding together. “Ask me in five years.”
“Tally—”
“He found me.” My voice broke. “Dig ran into him, and then he just—he found me.”
“Dig didn’t tell him,” Charlie said gently. “He figured it out from your photos. From the work you’ve been doing.”
“Same result.”
“No.” His hand covered mine. “Dig protected you. He punched the guy. Nick came here anyway because that’s who he is—someone who shows up when it’s convenient and leaves when it’s not.”
I wanted to argue, but the truth of it settled in my chest.
“He’s gone now,” Charlie said firmly. “And he’s not coming back.”
“How do you know?”
“Because you didn’t give him a reason to.” He squeezed my hand. “You told him the truth. You didn’t need him before, and you don’t need him now.”
The baby kicked, hard enough that I gasped.
Charlie’s eyes dropped to my stomach. “That the baby?”
I nodded, pressing my hand to the spot.
“Strong kid,” he said softly.
“Takes after their mom,” I managed.
A small smile tugged at his mouth. “Yeah. They do.”
We stood there in the quiet, my hand still in his, and slowly—slowly—my breathing evened out.
“Thank you,” I whispered. “For being here. For not making me feel like I need to explain anything.”
“You don’t,” he said. “You never do. Not with me.”
And somehow, that was exactly what I needed to hear.