Method

“No.” He shakes his head firmly. “No, this ambition isn’t helping me anymore, it’s killing me, Mila.” He points at his chest. “It’s like a sickness now, and I don’t want to give it any more power over me. I convinced myself as long as I was this product of success, all that other stuff didn’t matter, but it hurts, it hurts so bad.” He exhales a long breath. “I’ve been hiding from that kid in these scripts forever. And I thought this was the best way to do it but when the credits roll, I’m still here and none of this, none of it makes sense. I don’t want to keep existing like this.”

“Don’t regret it, Lucas.”

“How can I not? Look at us? Look at what happened…to Blake.” He cups the back of his head with both hands and squeezes his eyes shut, his forearms covering his face. It takes him several seconds to speak.

“I met with the woman throwing Blake’s name around the tabloids, and I lost it, Mila. I lost it. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, he—”

“Lucas,” I whisper, and his eyes shoot up to mine. “I’ve gathered my own conclusions about what went down, and I think I’m right?”

He nods.

“With respect to Blake, I know he died trying to keep his secrets, and I want to honor that. I love him enough to respect that. I know it goes against the honesty I’ve been fighting for as far as you’re concerned, and you did what you had to do. I know that. And if you want to talk about it for you—”

He shakes his head.

“Are you going to tell Amanda?”

“Maybe, probably later, but yes, I think she deserves to know.”

“Good. As hard as it will be for her to hear, she probably should.”

Chests laden with heartache, we get lost in our own thoughts.

“Mila,” he swallows audibly, his eyes drinking me in. “Are you okay?” They drift lower. “Is our baby okay?”

“We’re both perfect. It’s early. I’m only six weeks along now.”

“You think the universe answered that one for me?” he asks with a shy smile. I can see his wheels turning, and I clue him in.

“I hope not.”

He draws his brows. “Why?”

“We conceived that day in your trailer,” I say around the knot in my throat and see when the truth of it registers. “That’s one of the reasons I’ve been so angry.”

“Jesus,” he says, palming his forehead. “I’ll never forgive myself.”

“You have to,” I say, drawing his attention. “You have to, Lucas. You have to just like I have to. It’s a decision.”

He slowly nods. “When did you find out?”

“The morning of the day I told you.”

“I ruined that too.”

“That was my decision. I set you up to ruin that. You were so far gone.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know. I am too.”

His features twist with longing. “Are you ever going to let me touch you?”

“I’m kind of waiting to see what your plans are.”

“Plans?” he rasps out in a thick voice, eyes watering. “I’m fresh out.”

“I’ve made some of my own.”