She wraps her hand around my wrist and slowly removes it from between her legs before stepping back. “And what if I choose you? Will I spend the rest of my life wondering if I could have a family and kids if I’d chosen him?”

I fist my hands at my sides because I’m afraid that, if I let myself touch her, I’ll pull her into my arms and refuse to let her go. I’m afraid one hit of her scent will make me promise things I know I can’t give.

“I don’t want any more kids, Hanna. I have Collin and I can’t do that to him.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Don’t,” I plead.

“There’s a difference,” she whispers. “An important one.”

“Maybe I’ll change my mind, but right now…”

She swallows and her eyes well with tears. “Thank you for your honesty.” Then she leaves the bathroom.

I feel like an idiot and an ass**le, but I won’t lie to win her. She deserves better.

After I wash my face and dry off, I return to the bedroom. She’s dressed and her bag is thrown over her shoulder.

“Hanna, I’m sorry.”

She shakes her head. “Don’t apologize for being honest.”

“If I changed my mind for anyone, it would be for you. Don’t go. Not yet.”

“I’m going to fly home tonight. I need to think.”

Stepping forward, I cup her jaw in my hands and tilt her face up to mine. “I wish I’d met you before you started dating him.”

“And I wish we could just be a normal couple in love. But we’re not.” She touches her hand to my cheek. “There’s never been anything normal about us.”

“Only because this is better than normal. You know it is.”

“Give me time. I need to think.”

She’s ending this. She’s f**king leaving me and ending this. “Don’t do this. Hanna…”

“We’ll talk when you get back from London.” She turns toward the door.

“Angel,” I call. She stops but doesn’t turn to me. “You can leave, but you’re taking my heart with you. You can choose him, but part of you will always be mine.”

3

THE FIRST time Max and I made love, I told him I’d never had sex without a condom.

I was wrong.

I lie in bed with the memory searing my brain like a hot iron. When I close my eyes, I can feel the goose bumps on my arms, the cool tile under my feet, my skin still wet, my body sore from making love to Nate, my legs sore from being wrapped around his waist as he took me in the shower.

“I don’t want any more kids, Hanna. I have Collin and I can’t do that to him.”

Then when I returned to LA after the amnesia, when we were saying goodbye, he met me in the shower again. “Why’d you have to forget?” At the time I thought he meant forget us, but he meant more than that. He meant…everything. His offering more, his taking my virginity, his making love to me in the shower and the conversation that rendered him silent when he discovered I’d made my choice.

I settle my hand on my stomach and imagine the little lives growing inside. My pregnancy was hard for me to accept, and the idea of having a baby at all—let alone twins—still terrifies me. But, despite all of that, these babies feel like a miracle and a gift to me. And to Nate, they’ll be nothing more than a slight to his firstborn.

When my alarm goes off, I’m relieved. I may have spent more of the night pretending to sleep than actually sleeping.

Max reaches for me as I slide out of bed, and I squeeze his hand before padding through the dark to get ready in the bathroom. If I worried that he’d want to have sex last night, I needn’t have. He held me in his arms and fell asleep, and I lay there wondering how I ever made a choice between two halves of my heart.

In the bakery, I find comfort in my morning routine—warming the ovens, pulling the ingredients for today’s recipes, listing the outside orders for the following week, and penning them into my schedule.

As I bake, my mind turns, and to keep myself from spinning my emotional wheels, I make a mental list of what I know to be true.

I chose Max once and I have no reason to doubt that decision given what I know now about the bakery and how he feels about me. Especially considering Nate doesn’t want any more children and I always hoped to have a big family.

Max is exactly what I need now. My future with him will be stable and secure, and most importantly, it’s a future here, at home.

Despite all of that, I find myself trying to make the choice all over again. Maybe because I’m pregnant with Nate’s babies and that complicates things. Or maybe for another reason altogether.

I need to tell Nate about the pregnancy, regardless of how he feels about having more children. When I talked to him last night, I was still trying to digest the fact that he was alive. And trying to defend myself against his accusations. He thinks I just jumped into bed with Max the second I learned his helicopter went down. It’s not that simple—nothing is. He walked away from me. He said goodbye.

I would have ended up with Max again, even if the whole world hadn’t thought Nate was dead.

Wouldn’t I?

And it’s in the space of that tiny question, in the hesitation between the beats of my heart, that my kernel of guilt sprouts poisonous blossoms in my heart and leaves my relationship with Max in its shadow.

Telling Nate about the babies while keeping Max’s ring on my finger is about the cruelest position I could put him in. I’ll be making him the second family—again and forever—when he deserves so much more.