The Ex-Husband of Alice Langley

32

PARIS SWIFT-KELCE
It's been two weeks since Lauren accidentally confessed her love for me, and every day since has felt like I'm walking on eggshells. We still have to work together, of course, but our interactions have been awkward, stilted, like we're both trying to avoid the obvious. She's distant, keeping things strictly professional, and I can't help but feel the weight of everything that's unspoken between us.

I keep catching myself glancing over at her, wondering what she's thinking, if she regrets telling me. Then, when I get home, it's worse. I'm alone with my thoughts, and I start wondering if maybe... maybe I love her too.

I think about all our times together, how easy it's always been with her. Her smile—the way it makes me feel less alone, like someone really sees me. I think about every late-night conversation, every inside joke, every moment when I didn't realize she was feeling something more.

And then I think about how all this time, she must have been feeling fireworks in her chest, dying to tell me, or maybe even wanting to kiss me. How did I not see it? How could I have been so blind to what was right in front of me?

It's confusing, though. Do I love her the same way? Or am I just trying to fill the space left by her confession? I don't know what I feel, and every day that passes just makes it harder to face her, to confront these growing thoughts.

I wish I could talk to her, but I'm scared. Scared that if I don't love her the way she wants, I'll lose her forever. And that thought—that's what terrifies me the most.

"Paris, can you hand me—" Lauren begins, her voice calm and steady as she motions for a beaker on my side of the workstation.

But I can't take it anymore. It's like all the tension I've been burying inside me the past two weeks surges up in one overwhelming rush, and before I can stop myself, the words fly out of my mouth. "Dear God, woman, I can't do this anymore!" I shout, my voice louder than I intended. My hands are trembling as I slam the beaker down on the counter. "I'm 20 weeks pregnant! My hormones are everywhere! We need to talk about what happened because I'm losing my fucking mind!"

Lauren freezes in place, the beaker she was reaching for completely forgotten as her eyes snap to mine. She looks stunned, her expression a mix of shock and confusion, and for a second, I can almost see the exact moment she realizes just how much I've been holding back. The lab is deathly silent, save for the faint hum of the ventilation system, as my words hang in the air between us like a ticking bomb.

"I... I'm sorry, Paris," Lauren stammers, her voice barely above a whisper. She looks completely caught off guard, like she didn't expect this explosion from me, and to be fair, neither did I. "I didn't realize—"

"Of course, you didn't realize!" I interrupt, pacing back and forth now, the stress of everything pressing down on my chest, making it hard to breathe. "Do you have any idea what it's been like for me these last two weeks? I'm 20 weeks pregnant, Lauren! TWENTY! My hormones are all over the place, my body feels like it's not even mine anymore, and then you...you tell me you're in love with me out of the blue, and I'm supposed to just act like everything's normal? Like that didn't completely turn my world upside down?!"

Lauren flinches at my words, and I instantly feel a pang of guilt, but I can't stop now. It's like a dam has broken, and all the frustration and confusion I've been bottling up are flooding out, unstoppable. "Every time I see you, I don't know what to think anymore!" I continue, my voice shaking. "I don't know how to feel! I'm supposed to be focused on this pregnancy, focused on work, and now all I can think about is how messed up everything feels between us! I'm losing my mind, Lauren!"

She takes a hesitant step forward, her hand half-extended as if she wants to reach out to me but is too scared to follow through. Her face is pale, and for the first time since she confessed her feelings, she looks truly vulnerable. "I...I didn't mean to make things harder for you," she says softly, her voice trembling just enough to break through my anger. "I swear, Paris, that was never my intention. I just couldn't keep it in anymore. I couldn't keep pretending that I didn't feel something—"