Page 112 of Never After Us
No, he sighs like a man who has absolutely had this conversation before with Mila—which is absurd—and responds with terrifying calm.
“For someone to have a baby—or adopt one,” he says, his tone insufferably reasonable, “they need to be in a long-term relationship.Preferably stable.That’s sort of ...foundational.”
He says it like he’s explaining algebra.Or toaster manuals.Slightly monotone, overly exact, like he’s downloaded the concept of ‘how humans fall in love and build families’ from a CD-ROM titledEmotions for Dummies.
Mila squints at him, as if parsing this logic.Hands on her hips.Her tiny brow furrowed like a tiny, disappointed life coach.“So you need to fall in love first?”
“Correct,” he replies.No hesitation.No embarrassment.“It’s a prerequisite.Like passing a test.”
I might actually implode.There’s a chance I visibly cringe.
“How do people fall in love?”Mila presses, because of course she does.Because her entire personality is a long-form essay of follow-up questions and inconvenient truths.
Alec groans, not dramatically—more like someone who knows he just stepped into a test he didn’t study for.
“Let’s wait until we get to my place,” he mutters.“I’ve got two encyclopedias and an entire section on human behavior.We can research all of this.Properly.”
“Shouldn’t we go to the library?”Mila counters.
“You’ve seen my apartment.It’s full of books,” he replies without missing a beat.“Qualitatively speaking, it qualifies.”
And that’s when the rain starts—gentle at first, like it’s trying to pretend it’s not going to absolutely soak us in five minutes.
Alec crouches before I can even react.
He takes Mila’s jacket from me and helps her into it with careful hands.He zips it up slowly, avoiding her hair, smoothing the fabric over her shoulders like he’s done it a hundred times.
Then he opens her pink umbrella and tilts it just right, making sure every raindrop lands anywhere but on her.
I want to scream.Or cry.Or crawl into the nearest drain and live there forever.
Because I’m not supposed to want this.
Not him.Not the quiet way he steps in and makes it look so easy.
Not the part of me that aches when I watch him do things my late husband never thought to.
Not the part of me that wants to believe—just for one reckless moment—that maybe I didn’t screw up everything beyond repair.
But I’m the girl who second-guesses the good moments because they’ve never lasted.I’m the one who learned that love comes with receipts and timelines and abrupt endings you don’t get to prepare for.
And Alec Horvath?He’s still holding the umbrella.Still shielding my daughter.Still treating this moment like it matters.
God help me.
I think it does.
Mila ...she beams up at him.Alec looks at her with a softness he probably doesn’t even realize he’s showing.And something inside me breaks apart in a way I don’t recognize.
He takes her hand once they’re both set, and she accepts it like it’s the most natural thing in the world.Like she’s always expected him to be there beside her on rainy afternoons.They start walking toward home—her tiny hand swinging, his stride adjusting to match hers.
I follow behind them, a breath caught somewhere between awe and fear.Because of this, this is strange, unexpected sweetness.This image of the two of them walking side by side hits me harder than any confession he could’ve whispered.
It tugs at my heartstrings.This shouldn’t feel like a glimpse of a life that almost fits.It shouldn’t feel warm.It shouldn’t feel so perfect.
But damn it, it does.
The rain comes down a little harder, blurring the edges of the street, and for a moment all I see is them—Alec slowing his steps so Mila can hop over a puddle, my little girl giggling as he guides her around a slick patch on the sidewalk.
