Page 93 of The Equation of Us
I nod, my own relief mingling with lingering anxiety. “And James?”
“He broke up with her. Before we even got the results.”
“Seriously?”
“Said he ‘wasn’t ready for that kind of drama,’” Dean says, voice hard with disgust. “Apparently ‘uncomplicated’ only applies when everything’s going well.”
I place my hand over his, feeling the tension in his fingers. “I’m sorry. For her, I mean. That’s a lot to deal with in one day.”
Dean turns his hand, interlacing our fingers. “She’ll be okay. Her sister’s coming to stay with her this weekend.”
We sit in silence for a moment, the gravity of what almost happened settling around us.
“If it had been positive,” I begin carefully, “what would you have done?”
“Exactly what I told you,” he says without hesitation. “Whatever she needed. If she wanted to terminate, I’d have supported that. If she wanted to keep it, I’d have been a father to that child.”
“And us?” The question feels selfish, but I need to know.
Dean is quiet for a long moment. “I don’t know,” he admits finally. “I’d have tried to make it work. All of it. But I can’t say for sure that I would have succeeded.”
The honesty hurts, but I appreciate it. Dean has never been one to offer false comfort.
“For what it’s worth,” he continues, finally looking at me, “I wouldn’t have wanted to lose this. You. Us.”
He’s braver than I’ve been. I still feel guilty for implying we’re still just friends with benefits, when it’s obviously so much more.
Something in his tone makes me meet his gaze. What I see there catches me off guard—not just relief or lingering stress, but something deeper. Something that looks dangerously close to what I’ve been afraid to name myself.
“I thought it was over,” I confess. “When you told me, I thought… that’s it. We had a few good weeks, and now reality’s stepping in.”
“I know.” He brings our joined hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to my knuckles. “I saw it in your face.”
“I was trying to be supportive.”
“You were.” A small smile touches his lips. “You’re better at hiding your thoughts than you think. Just not from me.”
The intimacy of the statement—the idea that he sees me so clearly—sends a shiver through me.
“It would have been okay, you know,” I say softly. “If you had to… step away from us to be there for them. I would have understood.”
Dean’s hand tightens around mine. “I know you would have. But I’m selfishly very glad I don’t have to test that theory.”
I lean into him then, letting my head rest against his shoulder. His arm comes around me, solid and warm and reassuringly present.
“Me too,” I whisper.
We stayed like that for a long time, not speaking, just existing in the shared relief and renewed awareness of how quickly things can change. How fragile our carefully constructed lives really are.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Girl Code Violations
Nora
“Okay, but seriously,” Sadie says, reaching for another slice of pizza. “Who puts pineapple on pizza and then adds jalapeños? That’s sociopathic behavior.”
“It’s sweet and spicy!” Daphne protests, laughing. “Don’t judge my pizza choices when you put ranch dressing on yours.”
