“Hanna and I have a lot in common, and we understand each other in ways not many people can,” Jake explains. “I can’t pretend I know how this feels for you, Ryan, but we did try to keep things platonic.”

“So you accidentally slept with my . . . Hanna?” Ryan blows out a breath. “You know what, you don’t need to answer that. How long have you known about the baby?” He looks between us.

“I found out yesterday afternoon, and I told Jake last night,” I say.

“Oh.” He rubs the space between his eyes, clearly struggling to digest all of this. “What the heck happened to using condoms?”

“We didn’t think it was something we needed to worry about, seeing as I’ve been menopausal for two years.” It’s not entirely true, but explaining what actually happened isn’t something I feel the need to do. That this is even a conversation I have to have, with Ryan of all people, is mind-boggling.

“There’s definitely some irony in that,” Queenie says with a chuckle. She moves to the chair next to Ryan, probably because his knee is bouncing with his anxiety.

He gives her a dark look. “This isn’t a joke, Queenie.”

“I know, but it’s not like it can be undone. And it clearly wasn’t intentional.” Queenie puts her hand over his and gives it a squeeze, likely to remind him that she’s on his side. “Does this mean that you’ll be moving to Seattle?”

The question is directed at me, and she looks both hopeful and expectant.

Jake and I glance at each other.

He starts with, “I think eventually that will make the most sense—”

“My life is in Tennessee.” Jake stiffens and moves his hand back to his lap. Ryan rubs his jaw and glares daggers at Jake, and I swallow down the desire to backtrack. By their expressions, I know it’s the wrong thing to say, but I’m already facing so much change, and Jake and I had never planned for this to be anything more than some fun between the sheets.

“Not all of it,” Queenie says flatly.

“There are a lot of potential complications with this pregnancy. It’s reasonable to hold off on a move until we’ve seen the doctor and had all the necessary tests,” Jake explains.

“I’ve lived in Tennessee for thirty years. I have a job, and a house, and half of my family lives there,” I tell Jake. And the last time I was pregnant I was hidden away at my aunt’s, and then moved from Ohio to Tennessee. “And let’s all be realistic about this. I’m very high risk because of my age and I’ve already miscarried once. I’m not uprooting my entire life and moving across the country when there are still so many unknowns.”

“I don’t think we need to make that decision right now.” Jake’s expression reflects his disquiet.

“Does this mean you’re not planning to raise the baby together?” Queenie bites her lip, her gaze flitting between us.

Ryan huffs an annoyed breath. “Why the hell should Hanna have to give up her entire life for you? Maybe you should consider moving to Tennessee instead of the other way around.”

“And maybe you need to back off and let Hanna and me decide what we’re going to do, since it isn’t up to you,” Jake snaps.

“Don’t you dare talk to my son like that,” I fire back.

“It’s not up to him to make decisions for you,” Jake retorts.

I roll my shoulders back. “It’s not up to you either.”

“I have a right to be part of this.” Jake points to himself. “I’ve raised one daughter on my own. I’m not going to back off and passively wait for someone else to decide what my role gets to be in this kid’s life.”

“If you want to be part of those decisions, I suggest you change your tone. I would never speak to Queenie the way you’re speaking to Ryan or me. You might not like the questions he’s asking, or agree with what he has to say, but you don’t get to talk down to him.”

“You know, maybe it would be a good idea for my dad and me to go grab a coffee and have a chat,” Queenie says, before turning her attention to me. “And then you and Ryan can have a chance to talk, too.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” Jake says. His knee is bouncing restlessly and he looks a little green.

Queenie turns to Ryan and whispers quietly. He nods but doesn’t say anything.

Queenie and Jake gather their things, leaving me alone with Ryan. I don’t love the way that went down, but I understand this is emotional for all of us.

“Why didn’t you tell me you had feelings for Jake?” He doesn’t sound angry anymore, more hurt and disappointed than anything else, which is infinitely worse.

I realize this is less about the actual news and more about feeling like he’s been lied to. Ryan is very good at making it seem like he’s handling things well, but sometimes the truth is very different than how he presents. I slide down the couch so I’m closer to him. “We never intended to act on them.”

“What changed?” He spins his wedding band on his finger.

“I don’t know that there was any one thing.” It doesn’t make sense to be anything but honest with him. “We were talking more often when the wedding plans started, and he was there for me when I needed a sounding board.”

Ryan rests his elbows on his knees. “A sounding board for what? Why couldn’t you come to me?”

I give him a small smile. “Because it was your wedding, and I wasn’t going to put my insecurities and worries on you. I knew it was hard enough on you trying to juggle Mom and me and making sure we both felt included. And I appreciate the lengths you went to in order to make sure I felt like I was part of the day . . . but I’m not going to lie to you and tell you it was easy to stand on the sidelines. And not because of anything anyone did or didn’t do. I didn’t expect it to be as hard as it was, and Jake was there for me.” Being with him helped distract me from the stress of it all. And we connected in ways that no one else could really understand. And now we’re linked in ways that neither of us intended.

“I would have been there for you,” he says.

He seems stuck on this point, and I get it, because I have always been open and honest with Ryan, just like he’s been open and honest with me. About most things. Apart from how he and Queenie actually met—which I learned from Queenie and the girls on one of our many pre-wedding activity dates. “You had more than enough on your plate, Ryan. Your focus needed to be on the wedding, and putting you in the middle of everything more than you already were wouldn’t have been fair.”

“I would have found a way to make it easier if I’d known, though,” he argues.

“I know, and I love you for it, but that is exactly why I didn’t come to you about it.” I hate that I’ve made him question my loyalty to him, and all I can do is hope that our relationship can heal from this new blow.

I cover his hand with mine. His is more than twice the size. My heart hurts that I’m so torn. I’m scared, elated, and worried, not just about the baby, but about Ryan, too. “I made choices when I was young that had consequences, and one of them was realized when you got married and I couldn’t be the mother of the groom. I didn’t get a mother-son dance. Mom is still a mom to both of us, and we couldn’t undo thirty years just because you knew the truth. Or take that away from her. And that was tough for me, but I didn’t want to make it hard for you, too. So, while I understand that you want me to be able to talk to you like your peer, the difference is that I’ve always been aware that I’m not, even though you weren’t.”