“Thank you,” I say, one hand resting on my stomach. “We’re excited for this little one.”
The awkward quiet stretches between us.
Celeste shifts her weight. “I heard Alex is playing again and is doing really well?”
I nod. “He is. Better than before, from what everyone is saying.”
“I’m glad. I know how much he loves the game.”
Another pause.
“And I also know how much he wants to be a dad.”
My fingers tighten against the swell of my stomach, but I nod. “He does. And now… here we are.”
Celeste smiles—not jealous, not bitter.
“Has Tyson left you alone?”
“He actually has. It’s been peaceful. I think he finally figured out how to be a decent person. Or maybe he just got bigger things on his plate.”
Let’s be honest—if he’s learned how to be decent, it’s only because life forced his hand. He would never leave us alone willingly.
“I’ve been meaning to call Alex. To apologize. But I haven’t found the words yet.”
“You don’t need to. We understand what happened.”
Honestly, we want to move on from this. Alex isn’t interested in an apology.
She breathes out a small laugh, quick and rueful. “Still, it’s something I owe him.”
Then her expression shifts—something unexpected blooming in her eyes. “It’s strange, but part of me wants to thank him.”
I raise an eyebrow. “For…?”
“For breaking Tyson’s hip. Because that led to the cancer diagnosis. And that led to everything else—his mindset shift, the letting go, the freedom. It saved me in the long run.”
“Life’s funny that way. Sometimes karma shows up wearing cleats.”
Celeste laughs, and the tension between us melts.
“I’ve been seeing someone. Only for a couple of months, but he’s kind. Easy to talk to. It’s early, but it feels good.”
I offer a small smile. “I’m happy for you. Hope it works out.”
“Thank you, Magnolia. Early congratulations on the baby.”
Then she nods, gives me a goodbye, and walks away. Graceful. Quiet. It feels like she walked out of my life for good. And I’m okay with that.
I find Violet near a display of impractical chic baby toys. Her basket is loaded with a teething giraffe that costs more than my wedding shoes, two bamboo swaddles embroidered with constellations, and a stack of onesies that read I Drink Until I Pass Out, I Only Cry When Ugly People Hold Me, Future CEO of Poop Corp., and No Hair, Don’t Care.
She holds up a stuffed rabbit. “I dare you to look at this and not cry.”
I just shake my head, smiling as I join her. “Is there anything not in your cart?”
“No. And you’re welcome.”
Violet moves on to the next display, pretending she’s not misty-eyed as she smooths the ears of the rabbit. She tosses it and nudges me with her hip. “If I see you buy one more thing in cream or ivory, I’m calling the police.”
