The lawyer's office smelled like old money and older grudges.
Lily sat rigidly in a leather chair that probably cost more than her monthly rent, watching Jasper Sterling transform into someone she didn't recognize. Gone was the man who'd traced constellations on her skin in Santorini, who'd whispered her name like a prayer. In his place sat a CEO in a thousand-dollar suit, his jaw set like concrete as he slid a document across the mahogany table.
"It's a parenting agreement," he said, his voice stripped of inflection. "Fair terms. Reasonable custody arrangements. Financial provisions that ensure-"
"Stop." Lily's hands trembled as she pushed the papers away, not bothering to read them. "I told you yesterday. I don't want your money."
"This isn't about what you want." Jasper's eyes were cold, distant-boardroom eyes. "This is about what our child needs."
*Our child.* The words should have warmed her. Instead, they felt like shackles.
"Our child needs a father who *wants* to be there, not one checking off boxes on a legal obligation." Lily stood abruptly, her chair scraping against imported marble. "I came here because you asked me to hear you out. But this?" She gestured at the contract, at the lawyer sitting silently in the corner like a well-paid vulture. "This is exactly what I was afraid of."
Jasper rose too, his height suddenly oppressive in the enclosed space. "You don't know what you're afraid of. You ran before we could even have a conversation."
"I didn't run. I *survived*." The words came out sharper than she intended, edged with years of practice. "There's a difference."
"Is there?" He moved closer, and she caught a hint of his cologne-cedar and something darker. The same scent that had been on her skin when she'd woken up alone in Santorini. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you made a decision that affects both of us without giving me a say."
Heat flooded Lily's cheeks. "You want to talk about making unilateral decisions? You ambushed me with a lawyer before we've even had a real conversation about this pregnancy."
"Because you won't *have* a real conversation!" Jasper's composure cracked, just slightly. His hand raked through his dark hair, leaving it disheveled-more human. "You show up, drop this bomb, then tell me you don't need anything from me. What was I supposed to do? Just accept that I'm going to be a ghost in my own child's life?"
The pain in his voice caught her off guard. She'd been so focused on protecting herself, protecting the tiny cluster of cells currently making her nauseous at the smell of coffee, that she hadn't considered-really considered-what this might mean to him.
But then her phone buzzed. A text from her mother: *Mija, did you talk to the clinic? They said you missed your appointment.*
Reality crashed back. The genetic counseling session she'd scheduled. The prenatal screening. The thousand decisions she had to make while her body rebelled against everything from morning to night. The blog posts she'd had to cancel because she couldn't keep food down long enough to write coherently.
"You want to know what you're supposed to do?" Lily's voice shook. "Try being present. Try being someone who shows up for the hard stuff, not just the contract negotiations."
"That's not fair."
"None of this is fair, Jasper. Fair would be not getting pregnant from one night with a stranger. Fair would be having a partner who chose me, not a legal obligation with quarterly custody swaps." She grabbed her bag, a thrifted canvas thing that suddenly felt ridiculous in this palace of privilege. "I'm doing this because I *want* to. Can you say the same?"
The silence stretched between them like an ocean.
When Jasper finally spoke, his voice was raw. "My father left when I was three. Did you know that?"
Lily froze halfway to the door.
"He told my mother he wasn't cut out for family life. Too much responsibility. Too much sacrifice." Jasper's reflection stared back at her from the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking Fifth Avenue. "She worked herself to death trying to prove she could do it alone. Two jobs, sometimes three. I was twelve when her heart gave out in the middle of a night shift at the hospital."
The words landed like stones in still water, creating ripples Lily could feel in her chest.
"So no, I can't promise you that I *want* this in the way you mean. I don't know how to want something I'm terrified of destroying." He turned to face her, and the vulnerability in his eyes made her breath catch. "But I'm here. And I'm not leaving. That has to count for something."
It did. God help her, it did.
But wanting something to count and trusting it to last were two different things.
"I have a doctor's appointment Thursday," Lily heard herself say. "Nine AM. Midtown Medical Center."
It wasn't an invitation. Not exactly. But it wasn't a rejection either.
Jasper's throat worked. "I'll be there."
"Don't-" She stopped, reconsidered. "Don't come if you're going to treat it like a business meeting. Don't come if you're going to bring contracts or lawyers or-"
"I'll come as your..." He hesitated, searching for the word. "As someone who cares what happens in that room."
The lawyer cleared his throat softly, a reminder of the unsigned documents between them.
Lily walked to the door, her hand on the brass handle that probably cost more than her camera equipment. She turned back once, catching Jasper's expression-hope and fear warring across his handsome features.
"I'm staying at the Airbnb on 112th Street," she said quietly. "For now. In case you need to reach me."
She left before he could respond, before she could do something stupid like cry or ask him to hold her or admit that she was just as terrified as he was.
The elevator descended forty-three floors while her stomach churned. Morning sickness, she told herself. Just morning sickness.
But when she stepped onto Fifth Avenue, her phone buzzed again. Not her mother this time.
*Unknown Number: There's something I need to tell you about the night in Santorini. Something I should have mentioned before. Can we talk?*
Lily's blood ran cold.
What else could there possibly be?
