Chapter 30
MINJI
I wake to a headache that throbs behind my eyes, the hotel ceiling blurring in and out like a bad signal.
Memories flicker: Aaron’s book signing, the buzz of his fans, dinner with his agent.
Tabitha kept the Bordeaux flowing, toasting my so-called ‘natural media presence.’ Aaron tried to cut me off, but I waved him away—I’d survived two hours of fan interrogation, hadn’t I earned it?
Now my mouth is parched, thick with regret.
Last night returns in jagged flashes: Tabitha’s sly questions about Aaron and me, my own voice slurring something humiliating about ‘having Aaron babies’ after glass number four.
God. College Minji, resurrected—the version of me I’ve tried to bury beneath years of case files and composure. The girl who melts in Aaron’s orbit.
I shift and wince; every muscle aches, especially in places I’d almost forgotten could ache.
My cheeks burn as I recall Aaron’s whispers, the things he coaxed me to beg for, the way my mind blissfully emptied.
I should be mortified. Instead, I’m already plotting how to make it happen again before checkout.
My phone buzzes. I reach over carefully, lifting Aaron’s heavy arm from my waist without waking him.
Demi
Clearly, you’re having the time of your life because one, you haven’t texted me since you’ve landed. And two, I see on Aaron’s IG you’re taking pics with his readers. Who are you, and what happened to my best friend?
Demi
And that smile on your face is giving you are getting dicked down. Please remember to wrap it up! I’m not ready to be an auntie, but then again, I am because I’m not the one pushing out them coochie pirates.
I bolt upright, clutching my phone as my hand trembles. The room tilts, and memories crash over me. Did we use condoms? Not last night. Not the night before. Not once since I landed in San Fran.
“Shit.” I steal a look at Aaron’s sleeping face, serene in the golden morning light, lashes casting shadows on his cheeks. My world is unraveling. Divorce attorneys aren’t supposed to make these mistakes; we’re the ones who sweep up the mess.
My period tracker app glows accusingly: a red circle marking peak fertility. Of course. The universe wouldn’t have it any other way.
I’ve always been the responsible one—the woman with emergency contraception in her cabinet, condoms in her nightstand, a career built on untangling other people’s romantic disasters.
Yet here I am, blindsided by a man who believes in forever, when I should know better.
I slip from the bed and lock myself in the bathroom.
Gripping the counter, I stare at my wild hair, swollen lips, and the mark blooming on my collarbone.
The woman in the mirror looks terrified and unmistakably happy.
“Get it together. This is fixable.”
I need to fix this, fast. I’ll hit the pharmacy for emergency contraception, handle it like I always do.
I’ll talk to Aaron about protection—if we keep seeing each other.
But as cold water shocks my face, a bigger truth surfaces: I want more with him.
The thought of a real relationship terrifies me more than the idea of being pregnant.
I hear him stirring in the other room, the soft rustle of sheets as he reaches for where I should be. My time for private panic is running out.
“Everything okay in there?” His voice is still rough with sleep.
No, everything is not okay. I could possibly be pregnant by the time this trip is over. I’m losing control of everything I’ve worked so hard to maintain.
“Everything’s fine. Be right out.”
I steal one last look at myself, draw a shaky breath, and step out. Aaron is propped up in bed, sheets tangled at his waist, his eyes gentle with concern. “Hey, you,” he murmurs, reaching out.
I find myself drifting toward the bed, my body ignoring every warning in my head. The mattress dips as I sit, leaving just enough distance so I don’t tumble straight back into his arms.
“Aaron,” I begin, my throat tight, “we’ve been careless. We haven’t been using protection, and I don’t believe in the pullout and pray method.”
His eyes widen, then narrow with understanding as he scratches the back of his neck. “And I haven’t been pulling out. Fuck. I completely—that was irresponsible of me. Of us.”
Relief washes over me when he says ‘us.’ It’s nothing like William, who always pointed the finger at me.
My first pregnancy scare, he blamed me for the broken condom and nearly broke up with me over it.
I should have left him long before that.
No, no need to cry over spilled milk. What happened in the past stays in the past.
“I’ve never been this careless.”
“Me either.” His hand finds mine, thumb tracing circles on my palm. “I’m clean, if that helps. Regular testing is part of my routine. That didn’t come out right. I just want you to know I’m clean and I don’t sleep around. Since we started sleeping together, it’s only been you.”
“We should have talked about getting tested before we slept together in New York,” I say, trying to lighten the mood. “We’re just moving at our own pace, but…”
Aaron’s face grows solemn. “Will we need a Plan B? I can run to the pharmacy right now.”
I blink, surprised by how quickly he moves to fix things. No excuses, no blame, just a straightforward offer to handle what we both let happen.
“That would be helpful,” I admit, then continue, “but it doesn’t address the main problem.”
“Which is?” His eyebrows lift slightly.
My hand makes a vague gesture between us. “Things I said at dinner. About… us.”
“We can talk after. Let’s deal with one crisis at a time.” He’s already pulling on jeans and a T-shirt. He slips on his sneakers and gives a quick kiss on my forehead. Then he’s gone, the door clicking shut with what sounds like judgment in its wake.
I wrap myself in the hotel robe and pace the room. My phone buzzes—another text from Demi, fishing for updates. I ignore it. What could I possibly say? I’m spiraling in San Fran with a romance author who’s upending my entire life. And I might be pregnant. I need help.
I stare out the hotel window at a bustling San Francisco morning, the sky impossibly blue.
People hurry to work, tourists snap photos, and vendors set up their stalls.
Everyone has a destination. While I’m just here, adrift and far from home, wondering how I landed in this mess.
The possibility of pregnancy feels like a door swinging open—a door I’d hoped to keep locked for another decade.
I touch the mark on my collarbone, feeling how tender it is.
It’s proof of letting go, something I’ve always seen as a weakness.
I sit on the bed, tired from thinking so much.
My fingers touch the sheets where Aaron slept, still warm.
I’m stretched out on the bed, wondering when I lost control.
Aaron comes back twenty minutes later, carrying a pharmacy bag and a cup of coffee. His kindness makes my heart ache.
“That was quick.” I sit up.
“One caramel macchiato with an extra shot.” He hands me the drink. “And one emergency solution.” He places the small box next to the coffee with equal care.
“Thank you.” I take the pill with a swig of coffee.
“There was a bottle of water in the fridge, but I guess coffee works too,” he says, before stripping out of his clothes and walking to the bathroom.
“I have an IG interview at noon. I don’t know how that slipped my mind.
I do apologize, but after that, the rest of the day is ours.
We still have wine tasting on the menu.” He disappears into the bathroom, and I hear the shower start.
I stare at the empty pill package, crushing it in my hand. Is he dodging the conversation about last night?
“You coming in? Water’s perfect.” Aaron’s voice carries over the sound of running water.
“No, I’ll wait until you’re done. I need a minute to think.” How can he expect me to want to shower with him right now? I do want to, but caution wins out. I have to be careful.
Steam billows out as he emerges from the bathroom, a towel slung low on his hips.
His eyes find mine. “I meant what I said earlier. If anything happens, I’m here.
All in.” His lips quirk up. “Especially after hearing how much you want my babies. If we start now, we can create a basketball team before I’m forty. ”
Heat rushes to my face. “That was the tequila talking.”
“Tequila just removes the filter, Counselor.” Droplets slide down his neck as he combs his fingers through his wet hair. “It doesn’t create new thoughts.”
I fold my arms across my chest. “Can we table this until after your interview? Please?”
He studies me for a moment, then nods once. “Okay.” The bathroom door clicks shut behind him.
I grip my coffee cup and pace the room, nerves buzzing. I need Demi—she’s the only one who can talk me down. I step onto the balcony, letting the crisp San Francisco air clear my head as I dial her number.
Demi answers on the second ring. “Well, well, well. She’s alive, ladies and gents!”
“I might be having a panic attack,” I grip the railing.
“Wait… what happened?” Her tone shifts immediately. “Did he do something? Say something? Do I need to fly out there and cut a man?”
“No, it’s not—he’s perfect. That’s the problem.” I sink into one of the balcony chairs. “I think I’m falling for him like I did back in college.”
The silence that follows is so long I check to make sure we’re still connected.
“And this is… bad news?” she finally asks.
“Yes. I told his agent in my drunken state last night that I wanted to have Aaron’s babies, and it doesn’t help that we haven’t been using protection.”
“Jesus fucking Christ, Minji! What the hell are—nope, I know you aren’t thinking. Because if you were, you would know you shouldn’t be fucking him or any man that’s not your husband without a condom.”
“I know, I know. I took Plan B. He went out and got it first thing this morning.”
“Okay, that’s responsible at least. But seriously, babes, no dick is that good to make you forget to wrap it up.” She scolds me. “However, I support whatever you want to do. You’re a grown ass woman who has a brain of her own.”
I curl my toes into the balcony chair and stare at the city below.
“I know.” I hug my knees to my chest, embarrassed by the tremor in my voice.
“When I’m with him, everything I thought I wanted—partnership, prestige—suddenly feels less certain.
I start to think about more and possibly a future with him, but it’s crazy. ”
There’s a shuffling sound, and then Demi sighs dramatically.
“Minji Lee! Listen to me.” She always calls me by my full name when she’s trying to make a point.
“First of all, nobody dies from wanting something new. You’re allowed to be happy.
Secondly, if this man makes you feel alive, and from what I can tell, I’m betting he does. So why are you running away from it?”
Because I know how these stories end. I’ve seen it so many times: the honeymoon phase, the feeling of safety, and then slowly fading into resentment, boredom, or quiet loss.
But I keep that to myself and tell Demi a safer version. “I just can’t afford distractions right now. I have work and a huge divorce case that could make me partner. If William hears anything about my personal life getting in the way—”
“No ma’am! We are not talking about work or that dickhead,” Demi interrupts. “Stop letting him live rent-free in your head. Just stop. You’ve outgrown him. You’re on a different team now. Team ‘big dick’ Aaron!”
I watch Aaron through the glass, steam curling around him as he stands at the mirror, towel slung low, humming while he runs his fingers through his hair.
He said he’s all in. Even if it doesn’t make sense or fit my plans, I want to be all in too.
But I’m not sure I can. I don’t know if I’m ready for someone who loves so openly, who would give me everything without being asked.
“Can I call you after the wine tasting?” I ask. I love talking to Demi, but sometimes I’m not ready for her advice. It’s strange to admit I’m afraid of my own feelings. Really, I’m scared of falling in love again and risking my heart.
Demi’s voice softens. “Babes, you can call me every hour. But for now, go have fun. And don’t let your big attorney brain get in the way. Let your hot little attorney body have what it wants.”
I laugh. “I’ll try.”
“Don’t try… just do it.” Demi’s voice softens. “Just promise me you’ll use protection from now on, okay? I love you.”
“Love you too.” I hang up and put my phone in my robe pocket, taking a deep breath of the salty air before going back inside.
Aaron emerges from the bathroom just as I enter.
“All yours.” He gestures toward the steamy bathroom.
I move past him with a nod, my throat suddenly dry. His fingers brush against my wrist, stopping me.
“Hey.” His voice drops lower. “Take whatever time you need but remember I’m here. Don’t disappear on me, okay?”
“Okay.” I nod, slipping from his grasp into the sanctuary of the bathroom.
I turn on the shower and press my forehead to the cool tiles, letting the water drum away my panic.
Hotel bathrooms always feel like portals to reinvention.
I try to empty my mind, letting the water rinse away my doubts.
I want to step out as the woman who made Aaron lose control, not the one who second-guesses her own happiness before she’s even tasted it.