Page 104 of Never After Us
“You make it sound easy.”
“It’s not,” he says gently.“But it is necessary.If you’re going to be part of their life, you show up.Fully.Not as the man you’re afraid you might become—but as the man you’re trying to be.The version of yourself you keep hoping is possible.”
Something in those words slips beneath my defenses and settles deep, somewhere I don’t usually let anything touch.A place I’ve kept braced and boarded up for years, convinced nothing good belonged there.
“You think I can do that?”I ask, quieter than I meant.
“I think,” he says, “that you already are.And that scares you more than the alternative.”
I look away.My jaw tightens—not from anger, but from the effort it takes to hold everything in when the truth brushes too close to the parts I’ve kept hidden.The ones I don’t let anyone touch.Not even myself most days.
He’s right.Avoiding them for one day drained me in a way nothing else has done it before.I can handle silence.I can handle failure.But choosing not to see Mara and Mila?That’s not space—it’s deprivation.A version of solitude that tastes like regret before it even begins.
“You’ll have to tell her eventually,” he adds.
“Tell her what?”I ask, and the crack in my voice humiliates me.
“What you want.”He hesitates, for just a second, and says what we both know is the real risk.“Your feelings.”
The air shifts—too warm, too narrow.I look away from him, but my hands betray me, flexing open like I’m searching for something to hold.Maybe her hand.Maybe a future I swore I’d never want.
“And Alec,” he says, quiet enough that it sinks into my spine, “if you want them ...you go home today and act like it.”
I don’t speak.I’ve been on the verge of this moment before—standing at the edge of connection, pretending detachment is safer.
But here’s the truth: Mara feels like an answer to a question I didn’t know I’d been asking.She’s chaos theory wrapped in soft sweaters and broken laughter.And Mila?That kid rearranged my neurons on day one, didn’t even ask for permission.I think I’d follow both of them into any room, any storm, without thinking.
The idea of losing them makes my chest cave in—but not being part of their world?
That’s what would ruin me.
I stand slowly, as if any sudden movement might wake the part of me that still wants to disappear.But that voice—the one that always begged for silence—feels smaller now.Distant.
At the door, he speaks again.
“You asked me once how people know when they’re ready.”
I meet his eyes.
“You’re asking the questions of a man who’s already decided.”
My breath catches.It’s a subtle shift—like breath after a long dive.A knowing.It’s terrifying.
And right now, I want to go home.Though, I have no fucking idea what I’m going to do once I get there.
Show up?
ChapterThirty-Three
Mara
Mila is at ballet, which means I suddenly have ninety minutes to myself—a dangerous amount of time when you’ve been operating on juice box refills and emotional landmines.The penthouse is too quiet.Suspiciously quiet.The silence creeps in, curling around my ankles like it knows I won’t know what to do with it.
I tie my hair up, roll my sleeves, and decide I’ll just “clean a little.”Just enough to feel productive, not enough to fall into grief or regret.
There won’t be letters involved, no vinyl discussions.Definitely no wondering where Alec is or why it’s been almost two days since I’ve seen him.Definitely no thinking about how I keep glancing at the door like he might show up anyway, mumbling some excuse about tea or boxes or Mila needing frog-related reassurance.
He doesn’t want to be here.Message received.
