And somehow, in a way I couldn’t yet explain, he felt like a second chance.
“I’m Rhiannon,” I said softly, my voice shaking. “What’s his name? And yours?”
“Elliot, and I’m Pearl,” she said.
I smiled, tears pricking my eyes.
“Hi, Elliot,” I said.
He blinked up at me, and for the first time in two years, the weight of grief in my chest lifted, just a little.
“I don’t know what this means,” I said carefully, looking between her and the baby. “But I don’t think either of us can do this alone.”
Pearl’s lips parted, as though she wanted to say something, but the words caught in her throat. Instead, she nodded.
Elliot gurgled, oblivious to the storm that had brought us here. I reached for his little hand, and he grabbed my finger with surprising strength. A laugh escaped me, sudden and unguarded.
In that moment, I realized James’ betrayal wasn’t the whole story. His absence had connected us, two women bound by loss, by love, by the messy, complicated legacy of a man we’d both known in different ways.
I didn’t know if I wanted it.
But I knew this: I had found a reason to keep going.
