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The inside of the car was very quiet.
Daniel turned on the radio — something slow and soft that smoothed the jagged edges off the silence.
"I'm sorry you had to see that."
He glanced at me, then looked back at the road.
"Don't apologize. You didn't do anything wrong."
He paused, then asked:
"You okay?"
I answered him — and answered myself at the same time.
"I'm fine. It's over."
The next month, I made a point of avoiding anywhere Jason might be.
Work, tasting sessions at The Ashford Bistro, long walks with Oreo — the days were quiet and full in a way I hadn't expected.
Then one evening, The Ashford Bistro was running a tasting for a new menu.
I got there and found a familiar figure crouched on the steps outside the glass door.
Jason was wearing that black coat — wrinkled now, like it hadn't been near an iron in weeks.
He had stubble along his jaw. His eyes were hollow. He looked like he'd lost weight he couldn't afford to lose.
In his arms was a large cardboard box, stuffed with baby things.
Little clothes. Tiny socks. A set of bottles.
The moment he saw me, he scrambled upright.
Things spilled out of the box.
"Vivian..."
His voice was barely a voice — raw and wrecked, like he hadn't had water in days.
"Please. Tell me the baby's still here. That you were just angry at me."
He staggered toward me.
I stepped back instinctively.
Daniel appeared, stepping smoothly between us.
"Mr. Calloway. This is private property. I'm going to need you to leave."
Jason looked past him at me, eyes red and frantic.
"Vivian. Please. I'm begging you."
"I went to the hospital. They wouldn't let me see your records."
"I know it was my fault. I know I should have moved the moment you fell."
Then he dropped to his knees.
His knees hit the concrete with a sound that made people inside set down their cutlery and look through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
"Every night I dream about a child calling me Dad."
"I bought a crib. I don't know how to put it together."
"Vivian — tell me the baby's still there."
"Jason."
My voice was steady.
"Do you remember what you said?"
"You said every girl chasing you is better than me."
"You said if I left you, I'd never find anyone else."
He was shaking. Tears fell fast, hitting the concrete in dark spots.
"I was wrong. I know that now. I'm sorry."
I crouched down until we were level.
"That baby isn't coming back."
"And neither am I."
Daniel picked up an umbrella from the stand inside and held it out to Jason.
"It's supposed to rain tonight, Mr. Calloway."
"Drive safe."
Jason looked up at him, eyes burning.
He seemed to want to say something. In the end he just rose, mechanically, and walked away.
The baby things from the box were scattered across the steps.
Daniel bent down, picked up a small jacket that had blown near the drain, and shook it out carefully.
He folded it neatly and placed it back in the box.
"Some things," he said, setting the box beside Jason, "can't be recovered once they're lost."
"Take care of yourself."
Jason dragged the empty-feeling box with him into the dark.
Daniel put his arm around my shoulders and guided me inside.
"Cold?"
I shook my head.
Oreo trotted over immediately, butting his fluffy head against my leg.
I sank down and pulled him into a hug.