Don't Explain

twenty four

The next day, Prince did call, just as he'd promised. My heart skipped when I saw his name on my screen, a rush of relief and apprehension swirling together. I took a deep breath, steadied myself, and answered.

"Hey," he said softly. His voice was calm, almost careful. "How are you doing?"

I wanted to say "fine," but I couldn't bring myself to pretend. "I don't know," I admitted, barely able to find the words. "It's... it's a lot to think about, you know?"

Prince sighed, a sound tinged with understanding and something heavier, something hesitant. "I get it," he said quietly. Then he asked, "What do you want to do?"

His question hung in the air, weighty and overwhelming. I swallowed, struggling to process it. The truth was, I didn't know. There were so many layers—my feelings, his, the life that could be ours, and the one that existed here and now, incomplete but safe.

"I don't know," I confessed, my voice breaking. "I just... I don't know."

There was a pause, then he spoke, his voice measured, as if he was carefully choosing his words. "You realize I could very well still be married by the time the baby's born, if that's what we decide." His tone was steady, but I could feel the reality of the situation sink into my chest like a stone.

The reminder hit hard, the complicated nature of it all crashing down. In that moment, I felt caught between two worlds—one where things could fall together beautifully, and one where I'd be standing alone. The weight of it settled heavily, leaving me wordless.

He waited for my response, but I had none.

A tear slipped down my cheek, and then another, and before I could stop it, I was crying quietly. Prince's tone softened immediately.

"Hey," he said gently. "Come on, don't cry. Look... Manuela and I are ending things amicably. We're both ready for that. We have a prenup, so it probably won't take that long. Nothing's really holding us back there."

I took a shaky breath, his words sinking in, though the ache of uncertainty remained. He was reassuring, trying to make sense of things, but this was so much bigger than anything I'd imagined. I couldn't hold back the words that had been running through my mind since the moment I'd found out.

"Prince... you remember Joshua Tree?" I asked, my voice almost a whisper.

He was quiet, and then he murmured, "Of course. What about it?"

I blinked tears away, the memory of that day filling my mind, his words ringing clear: If you ever want more, I'm open to it. It had been something he said so simply, so gently, and at the time, it felt like a wish tucked into the back of my mind.

"You said back then that if I wanted more... you'd be open to it," I said, my voice wavering. "Well, more has decided to manifest itself."

He went silent for a beat, and I could almost feel him processing the weight of my words. Finally, he sighed, a sound that was both soft and heavy.

"I guess it really has," he murmured, his voice low, almost reverent. "I meant what I said back then, you know. It wasn't just something I thought sounded nice. I'd do what it takes to be here for you... for this."

There was a sincerity in his voice that made me pause, the words anchoring me a little more. The complications between us hadn't disappeared, but the honesty in his tone offered a strange kind of comfort.

"But this is huge," I whispered. "It's not just... us. It's a whole life, a whole change." I wiped a tear away, feeling the weight of it press on me again.