Max is at the stove, cooking dinner, with Claire strapped to his chest in a baby carrier. He’s humming softly as he stirs chicken and vegetables in a sauté pan, and Claire’s eyes open and float closed again and again.

I’m slammed with a vision of our future together, raising Claire and the twins side by side. Max is the kind of guy who would treat them all as his own, and he’ll be the kind of husband who cooks dinner when I have to work late or just because. I’ll have my bakery and he’ll have his health club. Once we’re married, I’ll have access to my trust fund, so money won’t be so tight, and even if it were, we’d make it work. He’d hold my hand when I worried about something, kiss my forehead and reassure me. He’ll be an amazing husband and father. Everything I could have ever wanted or dreamed.

But he’ll never be Nate Crane, and every day we’re together, I will hate myself for being so completely and painfully aware of that.

Max shouldn’t have to be Nate. Because he’s an amazing and wonderful guy just as he is.

I press my hand to my lips and stumble back a few steps because things could have been different. If I’d figured out how to accept myself, my body, before he asked me out, they would have been different. I’d be looking at a future with an amazing man holding my hand rather than bracing myself for one where I raise my children alone.

Max wouldn’t want me to marry him if he knew the decision was motivated by my desire to protect him.

He takes the pan off the stove and turns to pour its contents into a bowl on the island. When he spots me, his face lights up, and that makes me feel even worse.

Maggie’s right. Whatever I decided before the accident and why I made that decision is irrelevant.

“LET ME put her down.” Hanna reaches her arms out for Claire, and I gently remove her from the carrier.

She is going to make an amazing mother. She snuggles Claire against her chest and hums softly as she paces around the living room. The two people in this world I would do anything for. My woman. Holding my daughter.

“Goodnight, Claire,” she whispers, carefully lowering her into the crib in the corner. “You sleep well knowing you have the best daddy ever.”

“Come over here,” I murmur.

She’s in a red, strapless sundress tonight, and the sight of her legs and the bare, soft skin of her shoulders is slowly making me lose my mind.

She scans the table and then meets my eyes as the music kicks on. “Max…”

“I wanted to do something nice for you.” I take her hands and squeeze her fingers. “Someday, I’ll be able to take you to fancy restaurants in Indianapolis and Chicago instead of cooking for you. Someday, I’ll be able to buy you the kind of gifts you deserve and surprise you with weekends away at luxurious spas. You deserve it, and I’ll make it happen.”

She closes her eyes, and I count the beats of my anxious heart as I wait. “I don’t care about all that.”

“I love you, Hanna. I just want you to wake up every day and know—without a doubt in your mind—that you’re engaged to a man who loves you and wants to make up for being blind for so many years.”

“I’ve loved you since I was thirteen.” She removes her hands from mine, and the first prickling of dread starts its ominous crawl toward my heart. “And I still think you’re one of the best men I have ever met.”

“Hanna.” We both know where this is going. “What happened?”

Her eyes fill with new tears, and I see what’s coming all over her face. I’ve seen it coming all week.

“Don’t do this.”

“I have to.” She puts her hand to the side of my face then drops it quickly, as if touching me costs her. “You loved me and sacrificed for me—you knew the bakery was my dream and you went to extraordinary measures to make sure I got it. I’ll pay you back and I’ll never forget.”

My lungs are tight and I can’t make them take air. “You changed the way I see the world. You made me see what love could be. The bakery is nothing compared to that. I would do anything for you.”

“I know,” she says, and fat tears roll down her cheeks. “And don’t you think it’s time that goes both ways?”

“Don’t.”

“You deserve better than me.”

I want to object. To tell her she’s so wrong—that a future with her in any form is better than I deserve—but my throat is thick with emotion and there’s no room for words.

She tilts her head to the side, and more tears stream from her eyes as she pulls my grandmother’s ring from her finger. She may as well be ripping out my heart.

She takes my hand and presses the ring into my palm. “I can’t be with you when my heart’s not mine to give, and I won’t ask you to wait for me anymore.”

“Are you leaving me for him? Is he going to give you a future? Commitment? Raise the babies by your side?”

She shakes her head. “This isn’t about him. New Hope is my home, and LA is his. I’m not going anywhere.”

I can’t help myself anymore, and I gather her into my arms, pulling her against my chest. “Don’t do this. I know you don’t remember, but you chose me. There was a reason you chose me.”

She lets me hold her for a few breaths, and I can feel her tears soaking through the cotton of my shirt. I breathe in her scent, and when I pull away, regret is all over her face.