It was almost three in the morning when Reece got home, and Jenna had fallen asleep on the sofa. She blinked groggily when she heard his key in the door, then sat up slowly, her body feeling foreign now. A little bit special. A little bit traitorous. And definitely different.

"Hey, beautiful," he whispered as he came inside. "I didn't expect you to be up. How are you feeling? Did you go to a clinic?"

She nodded.

"Good. Did he give you anything?"

"No." She yawned and sat up, trying to get her mind working again.

"No?" He moved to sit by her on the sofa, then felt her forehead like he had that morning. "No temperature. Did he at least tell you why you feel so crappy? Overwork, like you thought?"

"You're worried about me," she said.

"Of course I am."

She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on tight. "I love you," she whispered as cold dread swept through her. A dread she hated, because what she needed to tell him was good. Or it should be. But Jenna couldn't help but fear that the moment she spoke would go down in history as the beginning of the end.

"I love you, too." His voice was wary, and he gently pushed her back, then studied her face. "If you're not sick, do you want to tell me what exactly is the matter? Is it the contest? If there's a snag, don't worry. We'll get it worked out."

She shook her head. "No, everything's going great." That was true, and she was grateful. At the moment, she was only equipped to handle one crisis at a time.

"Then what—"

She shoved up to her feet at the same time that she blurted out, "I'm pregnant."

Her eyes were on his face as she spoke, searching for signs of terror with the same minute inspection with which astronomers study the stars. But she saw nothing amiss. No terror. No disappointment.

All she saw was joy. Well, joy laced with a hint of confusion.

"Baby, that's amazing." He pulled her down to him and cradled her on his lap. "Are you sure? It hasn't been that long, and I thought those tests didn't register until—"

"The doctor drew blood. I'm not far along, but there's no doubt."

"Wow," he said, then pressed a hand against her belly. "How long have you known? You should have called me. I would have met you at the doctor's. There are so many questions—do I need to get you something from the store? Pickles?"

She laughed out loud, the tightness that had begun to build in her chest lessening a bit. "No cravings yet. But when I do, I'll tell you." Assuming you'll really still be here.

The thought came unbidden, and she could tell that he saw the reflection of it on her face.

"There is something wrong," he said. "Is it the baby? Could they even know this early? Is that why you didn't call me before? Because if there's something wrong, we'll handle it together."

She noticed that he didn't ask if it was his, and his certainty that she'd been with no one else—even back in LA—warmed her. They fit, dammit. The two of them were a perfect match, like a lock and key.

But if that was true, why was it so hard to talk to him right now?

"There's nothing wrong. And I spent the day thinking. I'm sorry I didn't tell you right away, but I needed time to think."

"It's okay. I get it."

"What you said just now, about handling it together. That's kind of what I want to talk to you about."

He nodded, urging her on, but the words wouldn't come.

"Oh, baby." He took her hands. "Tell me."

"I'm scared." The words weren't even quite a whisper.

"Hey, it's okay. There's nothing to be scared of. Women have been having babies forever."

She almost laughed at that. "True, but that's not what I'm scared of." She drew a deep breath for courage. "I don't want to be my mother. A single mom." She closed her eyes, drawing strength from the next few beats of her heart. "That's not who I am."

Reece's brow furrowed, and his eyes grew hard. "Your mom was alone," he said warily. "But I'll be with you. Right by your side. Whatever you need. Whatever the baby needs. It's us, right? And we're a team."

"A team," she repeated. The word seemed flat.

"A couple then. Or, a trio now. Right?"

She heard the note of urgency in his voice and wanted to reach out and soothe him. She couldn't think straight when she was around Reece, but she had to think straight. She had to because now she was thinking for both her and the baby.

And she'd had all day to think about what she was doing. All day alone in this apartment, pacing and walking and searching her conscience.

He might not like it, but she believed in the path she'd chosen. The only question now was whether or not they'd walk that path together.

"Dammit, Jen. Talk to me."

"I know I'm shifting things around on you without any warning. But this little peanut hit me without any warning, either." She stood up, placing her hand on her belly, and sighed. Here was her strength. No matter what—more than herself, more than Reece—she had to think about what was best for the baby. And that's what she was doing now. For hours and hours, that was all she'd thought about.

But thinking was the easy part. Telling Reece—making him understand too—was the challenge. And one she was terrified he couldn't meet.

"I want ... I used to imagine coming home after school. My mom gardening. My dad fixing a car. I never had that—I want my child to have it."

"He will. She will. I'm not going anywhere. We talked about this."

"No, we didn't. Not really. And maybe that's on me. Maybe I made you think I was okay with not getting married when the truth is, I was only okay with not getting married now."

"It's still now, Jen. Nothing's changed but biology."

She smiled at that. "I suppose that's true. But this particular bit of biology is the most important thing that's ever going to happen to either of us. And that changes things. Speeds them up, anyway."

She sat back down on the sofa, this time a few feet away so she was less tempted to touch him. Touching wouldn't weaken her resolve, but it would make the break that much more painful if he walked away.

"I said I was okay for then," she continued, keeping her hands in her lap though he reached for her. "But it's not okay forever, and I'm sorry if you got that impression. I believe in marriage. I want the commitment. More than that, I need it. And so does the baby."

"I love you, Jen. I'm as committed as I can get. I will always be there for you. For our child."

"You're committed," she repeated. "Just not committed enough to marry me."

"Don't play that game," he said, his voice as tight as a wire.

Tears clogged her throat, but she was determined not to shed them. "You're my best friend, and you always have been. And now you're my lover, and it's great. But I don't need a best friend. And I don't need a lover. I need a father for my baby."

He stood, propelled to his feet by an emotion so powerful it seemed to roll off him. "I am the baby's father."

"I need a husband."

"The hell you do—have you not met my father? Marriage doesn't solve anything. It's not a magic bullet that makes everything work."

"No, but it is a statement, and it's important. At least it is to me. I need the tradition and the ritual and all of it. I need us to be a family." She needed to know that he wasn't like her father, and that when the going got truly, seriously, horribly tough, she could count on him to step up. "And, I'm sorry, but if that's not something you need, then—"

"Don't you dare give me an ultimatum, Jen. Don't even think about threatening to take away my child."

This wasn't working. He wasn't getting it, and he sure as hell wasn't agreeing. But he was angry. So angry it seemed to fill the apartment, and she wished she could curl up and hide in the cushions.

"I'd never do that," she said, forcing her voice to be calm. "Not ever. But if you expect me to respect your inability to say those vows, then you have to respect my need for them."

"I'm not your dad, Jenna. I'm not going to say I love my kid only to disappear out of its life forever."

She blinked, and a tear ran down her cheek. He did know her well, and she could never think that of him. But that didn't change what she wanted. The promise. The commitment.

"You promised that you'd always be there for me," she told him.

"I am."

"No," she said. "You're not."

"Jenna—"

"No." She shook her head. "If you don't want to be my husband—if that's not the way you can see yourself—then I think I need to go. I'll always love you, Reece. But I can't be with you. Not like that. Not like this. And I'm afraid that if I stay, you'll wear me down." She wiped away tears. "Because I love you so damn much. But I'll hate myself if I give in. And what kind of a lesson would that be for the baby?"

"Please, Jenna. Don't."

But she had to.

Even though it broke her heart, she had to walk away.

* * *

For almost a week now, Reece had been living in a goddamn haze. Jenna had kicked the foundation out from under him, and his world had fallen apart. And, damn him, he still hadn't managed to figure out a way to put it back together again. Much less to get Jenna back.

God, he missed her.

Every night since she'd left, he'd gone to sleep on the couch, unwilling to go up to the bedroom and face the bed they'd shared.

And every morning he'd come out of sleep groggy, a vision of her beside him filling his head. And then he'd open his eyes and reality would give him a brutal smackdown.

He was alone, and he hated it.

But he also hated the position she'd put him in.

Marriage.

There it was hanging between them, and not even that long after they'd talked about it. And he couldn't wrap his head around why she'd want him to commit to an institution he didn't believe in. One so fraught with risk it was practically a curse.

And now they were both alone.

How the hell was that better? How did being apart make any sense when they were in love? When they were going to have a baby?

She'd moved out that very first night, taking only a single bag with her. She'd returned the next day while he was at work, and he'd come home to find all evidence of her gone. The reality had almost shattered him, but what had truly fucked him up was when Brent had arrived a few minutes later, let himself into the apartment, then settled onto Reece's couch with a beer from Reece's fridge.

And then his friend had had the nerve to tell Reece he needed to take a short leave from The Fix. "You need to stay away until after the contest. Too much stress on Jenna. And Ty and Cam can cover you as manager."

"I have an ownership interest in that place," Reece had said. "I'm not staying away."

"Don't stay away because of the bar. Stay away because of her. She needs space."

"Does she? Well, maybe I need her."

Brent had sighed, then looked at Reece with something like pity. "Don't be an ass, buddy. Not any more than you already have been."

Reece had snapped. "You think I should marry her. You? After everything that happened with Olivia, you're going to champion marriage?" The irony was mind-boggling.

"For the two of you? Yeah, I am. I know you. I know Jenna. And I can see clearly even if you can't."

Reece had walked out of his own apartment. The last thing he'd needed was Brent quarterbacking his life from the sideline.

It had taken him a day or two, but he'd cooled down, and he went to Brent's house to see her. She wasn't there.

"She said she didn't want to put herself between us," Brent said as Reece hoisted Faith, then held her strong little body close. "She's staying with Amanda."

"Did you and Aunt Jenna have a fight?" Faith asked.

"Not a fight," Reece told her. "A philosophical difference."

"What's that?" she'd asked.

"The same thing as a fight, as far as I'm concerned," Brent had said. "The end result sure as hell looks the same."

"Daddy! You said hell."

"Yeah, well, sometimes grownups make mistakes." He took the child from Reece's arms. "Sometimes, they can fix them."

After that, Reece had tried to contact Jenna at Amanda's, but she wouldn't answer his calls or texts, and when he called Amanda's business line, Jenna still wouldn't take his call.

"She says to tell you that she's not punishing you," Amanda assured him. "She sent you an email."

Now, the memory clung to him, still raw and painful. He was sitting at his kitchen table, and he pulled out his phone, then pulled up the flagged email for the billionth time.

Reece,

I'm sorry. I know you've tried to reach me, but I just can't. I swear I'm not trying to punish or hurt you by avoiding you. But the truth is that I want you too much to see you.

The thing is, I know how I feel. How I've always felt, and what I've always wanted. I feel what's right, as if the truth were in my bones. But you can make me forget myself, and if I see you, I might cave. You have a certain effect on me...

But this time, I don't want to give in to your demands, and I can't give you everything you want. I know I said I was yours, and I meant it. I still do. If you want to believe I lied to you, then I'm sorry. But I guess that would mean you lied to me, too.

I know you think it's unfair, and I'm sorry for that, too. It just is what it is. I wish you felt differently, because I love you more than I thought was possible.

Give me time, and we can talk. But know this now - I'm not going to change my mind.

Love forever,

Jenna

He read through the email twice more, then snapped out a curse. Although whether he was cursing himself or Jenna, he didn't know.

But tonight was the calendar contest, and whether she liked it or not, he was going to be there. He had to see her, even if he just watched from the sidelines. He had to see her and decide what the hell he was going to do.

That wasn't for a few more hours, though. Until then? Well, he had a truck, and he had a CD player, and at the end of the day, he was Texas born and bred. He was going to put in a CD—classic country, because the songs had to be about broken hearts and lost dreams—and he was going to drive up to Mount Bonnell, the highest point in the city. He was going to sit there and look at the river and feel like a fool for being in such a romantic spot all by himself.

And, dammit, he was going to think.

Determined, he grabbed his keys and headed for the door, only to find his father standing there. He hadn't yet told his dad and Edie about the pregnancy or the fact that Jenna had moved out or about their philosophical difference about marriage. And he didn't want to have that conversation now.

Trouble was, his dad rarely braved the stairs up to the apartment. If he did, it was probably for a heart-to-heart. And that meant that he'd probably noticed Jenna's absence.

"Dad, I—"

"Keep these for me," his dad said, shoving a pack of cigarettes into Reece's hand. "And if you see me with another pack, you call me out. You hear me, son?"

"I—" He glanced down at the pack, and then up to his father. "Yeah, of course. But why?" He'd been on his dad to quit for as long as he could remember.

Something bright lit his father's eyes, but when he answered, he barely smiled. "It's time," his father said. "Sometimes, you just know when it's time to change."