From Divorce to Billionaire’s Baby

Chapter 20: Late-Night Conversations

By the time we return to the house, the sun has fully dipped below the horizon, leaving a soft afterglow that fades into the darkening sky. The lights from inside spill onto the porch, casting warm, welcoming shadows as we step through the door. The smell of dinner fills the air, something savoury and comforting, just what we all need after the emotional tension from our walk.

Helen greets us with a smile that, for once, doesn’t have its usual sharp edge. “Dinner’s ready,” she says, glancing my way with something resembling genuine concern in her eyes. “Come on, Tess, sit down before you wear yourself out.”

I smile faintly, grateful that she’s holding her tongue tonight. Maybe it’s because my mom’s around, or maybe she’s realized that there’s enough tension without her usual remarks. Whatever the reason, I’m thankful for the reprieve.

We gather around the dining table, the conversation light and pleasant as we eat. My mom and Ryan’s dad chat about their old times in uni, while my dad makes the occasional joke about family traditions and the joys of grandparenthood. Ryan sits next to me, quietly watching, but there’s an ease to his presence tonight, like he’s trying, really trying, to make things right.

Dinner passes smoothly, without any sharp words or awkward silences. Helen stays unusually quiet, offering second helpings and clearing plates without her usual side comments. Afterward, the parents linger in the living room, sipping on glasses of wine and bourbon, laughing over old memories. I excuse myself, feeling the weight of the day settling in, and head upstairs to my room.

I head to the bathroom, eager to wash away the remnants of the day. As the warm water cascades over my skin, I feel the tension begin to melt from my muscles, the heat soothing the tiredness in my body. I let the water run for a few extra moments, enjoying the comforting sensation as it rinses away the day's worries and the emotional weight that has been building. The scent of my lavender body wash fills the air, calming my senses as I slowly scrub away the stress.

Once I’m done, I step out of the shower, feeling refreshed and lighter. I towel myself dry, the soft fabric absorbing the last droplets of water, before slipping into something comfortable for bed, my favourite loose-fitting pyjamas. They’re soft against my skin, the kind of comfortable that feels like being wrapped in a warm hug. With my hair still slightly damp, I brush through the tangles and tie it loosely, feeling a sense of calm settle over me as I prepare for what I hope will be a restful night.

As I get ready for bed, my mind is still turning over the conversation Ryan and I almost had earlier. The tension between us has been building for weeks, and though we’ve finally started to acknowledge it, we haven’t fully faced it yet. There’s still so much we haven’t said, so much we need to figure out before the baby arrives.

I lie in bed, staring up at the ceiling, trying to relax. But after a while, an uncomfortable tightness starts to spread through my chest. Heartburn. Of all the lovely pregnancy symptoms, this one has become a regular guest in my nights lately. I shift in bed, trying to find a position that eases the discomfort, but nothing works.

With a sigh, I push the blankets aside and slip out of bed. I need something to settle my stomach, and maybe a glass of water will help. Quietly, I make my way downstairs, hoping not to disturb anyone.

When I reach the kitchen, I’m surprised to find Ryan already there, standing by the counter, a glass of water in his hand. He looks up as I walk in, a concerned expression crossing his face.

“Tess? Are you okay?” he asks softly, setting the glass down and moving toward me.

“Heartburn,” I mutter, rubbing my chest. “Just couldn’t sleep.”

“Let me get you something for that,” he says, already reaching for the antacids from the cabinet. He hands them to me, his fingers brushing mine in a brief, familiar gesture. “Here. This should help.”

I take the tablets, swallowing them with a sip of water, and sit down at the kitchen table. Ryan watches me for a moment, then sits down across from me, his eyes searching mine.

“I didn’t expect to see you down here,” I say, my voice quiet in the stillness of the house.

He smiles slightly, though there’s a weariness in it. “I couldn’t sleep either. Thought I should come down and clear my head.”

We sit in silence for a few moments, the weight of everything we haven’t said hanging between us once again. I can’t take it anymore, again.

I meet Ryan’s gaze, my heart pounding as I know we can't keep dodging this conversation. There’s too much at stake now, our daughter, our future, and everything that’s been left unsaid between us. I take a deep breath, deciding that it’s time to face it.

“Our earlier conversation,” I begin softly, folding my hands on the table. “About what happens next, before and after the baby is born.”

He nods, his expression serious, as though he’s been expecting this. “I know, Tess. I’ve been thinking about it a lot. And... I want to give us a real chance,” he says, his voice steady but laced with vulnerability. “For her, and for us.”

The words hang in the air, a mix of hope and hesitation. A part of me wants to latch onto his offer, to believe that we can rebuild what we once had. But another part of me is scared, uncertain if we can truly fix the cracks that formed long before our daughter came into the picture.

“What do you mean by that?” I ask carefully, not wanting to jump to conclusions.

Ryan runs a hand through his hair, I know his trying to find the right words. “I think we should try living together again,” he says, his eyes meeting mine with a quiet intensity. “Not just because of the baby, but because I believe we can make this work, Tess. I’ve seen a different side of us these past few weeks, something real, something worth fighting for.”

His words hit me harder than I expected. The idea of living together again, of rebuilding what we lost, sounds both hopeful and terrifying. I have been through so much hurt, distance, misunderstandings, but there’s no denying the connection that’s resurfaced between us recently.

I feel the urge to push back, to remind him of all the ways we’ve failed before. But when I look at him now, I don’t see the man who withdrew emotionally during our marriage. I see someone who’s trying, someone who genuinely wants to make things right. And deep down, I know that I want to believe in him, in us, again.

“But what if it doesn’t work, Ryan?” I whisper, voicing the fear that’s been gnawing at me for weeks. “What if we move in together and it all falls apart again? I don’t want to bring our daughter into a broken situation.”

Ryan leans forward, his gaze steady. “I know it’s a risk, Tess. But I also know that I’m not the same person I was before. I’ve changed, and I can see that you’ve changed too. We owe it to ourselves, and to her, to at least try. We don’t have to have all the answers right now, but we can figure it out together.”

His words stir something in me, a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, we can find our way back to each other. I want to believe that we can make it work, that the love I’m slowly rediscovering for him isn’t a fleeting feeling but something that can grow stronger with time.

I look down at the table, my fingers tracing the wood grain as I think about what he’s saying. “It’s not just about us anymore,” I murmur. “It’s about what’s best for her too.”

Ryan reaches across the table, his hand covering mine. “I know. And that’s why I want us to do this the right way. We don’t have to rush into anything, but let’s try. Let’s give ourselves a chance to be a family.”

I look up at him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes, and for the first time in a long while, I feel a spark of hope. Maybe this isn’t just about fixing what was broken. Maybe it’s about building something new, something stronger, something real.

“Okay,” I say quietly, nodding as the weight of the decision settles over me. “Let’s try.”

Ryan’s face softens with relief, and for a moment, there’s a sense of calm between us, a shared understanding that this is just the beginning of a long, uncertain journey. But for now, we’re taking the first step together.

We sit in silence for a little longer, both of us processing what we’ve just agreed to. The heartburn has faded, but my heart still races with a mix of nerves and anticipation. This isn’t going to be easy, and I know there will be more difficult conversations ahead. But tonight, we’ve made a choice, to try, to hope, to believe in the possibility of a future together.

I need to think about this a little longer, but one thing I know for sure is I am not moving back into his house. Bottom of Form