Revolutions

Sakura Ridge Retreat,
Mount Komorebi

The cabin was quiet, save for the faint crackle of the fire and the occasional whistle of wind against the windows. Outside, snow blanketed the ground in a pristine layer, untouched by footsteps, the world hushed beneath the weight of winter.

Inside, the warmth barely seemed to reach Bri. The scent of antiseptic still clung to her—a sharp, sterile reminder of the clinic they’d left only hours ago. She sat curled on the couch, wrapped in a thick blanket, her face pale but no longer ashen. The firelight flickered across her features, softening the exhaustion etched into her skin.

Brad sat nearby, perched on the edge of an armchair, his posture rigid, his hands clasped tightly, as though physically holding himself together.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

The weight of the revelation hung between them, unspoken but palpable.

Brad’s gaze flickered toward Bri, his chest tightening at the sight of her. She looked so small, so fragile—yet there was a quiet strength in the way she held herself, her light green eyes fixed on the flames.

Brad hesitated, choosing his words carefully, knowing how sensitive the moment was. His voice was measured, quiet. “Bri, I need to ask this—and I promise, I’m trying to be tactful… but is it mine?”

Her head snapped up, her light green eyes blazing. “Seriously? Wow, Brad. Tough question. Either you or one of the fifty other guys I’ve been power-nailing over the past 5 some weeks. You know me—nothing but class.” She let out a short, bitter laugh, shaking her head. “Not like I have a public image to maintain or a family name steeped in music and film to uphold, right? Not like I’m about to go on tour for an album I poured my soul into or anything. And even if I wanted to nail random guys—which I don’t, just to be clear—it’d be splashed across the press by morning.”

Brad’s expression shifted, uncertainty flickering across his face. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just—Jackson and you have always—”

“No.” Her voice cut through the space between them, sharp at first, then softer as realization set in. With a sigh, she relaxed, running a hand through her hair. “Unless immaculate conception is a thing, yeah, it’s yours. We pulled a Cameron. There was nobody else.”

She shifted slightly, gaze returning to the fire. “Jackson and I haven’t touched each other like that since I came home to find my life in shambles, courtesy of my ex. And I won’t. I’m civil with him, sure—but that doesn’t mean I forgive him. I can’t even hate him, because somehow, I understand why he did what he did. But understanding doesn’t erase it. It doesn’t undo the wreckage. He had no right.”

Her fingers traced the edge of the armrest absently, her voice quieter now but no less firm. “I know he’s torn up about it, but that doesn’t change anything. Feeling bad doesn’t undo what’s already broken.”

Brad held her gaze, searching her face for something—reassurance, maybe, or confirmation that the ground beneath them wasn’t about to split apart.

A strange look flickered across his face, then a faint smile.

“I keep replaying that night,” Brad said finally, his voice low and steady. “The first night we spent together after all those years apart. I didn’t think… I didn’t think it would lead to this, but if the timing the hospital gave us is even remotely right that’s when it happened. Well, as a medical professional, I should have known it was a possibility…”

Bri shifted slightly, her fingers ghosting over her stomach as if trying to comprehend the life growing inside her. “I wasn’t prepared for it either,” she admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t even have my diaphragm with me—why would I have? I wasn’t expecting to see you or anyone, let alone end up doing THAT with you… Sorry, TMI.” She trailed off, her cheeks flushing faintly.

Brad exhaled, then shifted from the armchair, sliding in beside her on the couch. The warmth of his presence settled against her, steady and grounding. He hesitated for a moment before wrapping an arm around her shoulders, his touch cautious yet sure.

“Bri, I’m a doctor, not a monk. Neither one of us woke up that fateful morning and thought we’d end up seeing each other, let alone create life together. Birth control wasn’t exactly at the forefront of my mind either. Should’ve been, considering what I do for a living. But when I saw you again… I didn’t think beyond wanting more—more of you, more of us.” He let out a small, bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Truth is, I haven’t been… intimate with Molly in years. Plural. That night—being with you—it felt like nothing else mattered. Just us.”

Bri turned her head, searching his face.

“Well, now it does matter,” she murmured. “You’re the doc—you know as well as I do, a lot can still happen. I’m barely five weeks in. You know my history, pregnancies are rough and complicated for me to begin with if they happen at all, so let’s not freak out and get carried away here just yet. All this will probably go nowhere, but just in the off chance it does, we have to consider the possibility that it’s not just us anymore, Brad. This changes everything.”

Brad’s gaze flickered downward. Slowly, tentatively, he reached out, his hand brushing against her stomach—not quite sure if he should, but needing to. His touch was light, almost reverent, before he withdrew, resting his palm against his own knee.

His jaw tightened as he stared at the floor, nodding slowly. “I know. And I don’t regret it—not you, not this. I know I shouldn’t be, but I’m excited.” He exhaled deeply, his voice rougher now. “I know the odds. I know this makes a wrong thing even wronger. Still, deep inside, I want this. But I can’t pretend it doesn’t scare me. My marriage is already a façade, but this… this will blow it apart.”

Bri’s lips pressed into a thin line, her expression hardening slightly. “Do you want it to blow apart? Do you want out?”

Brad hesitated, the silence stretching between them.

Finally, he let out a deep sigh, his shoulders sagging.

“I’ve wanted out for years,” he admitted. “The last time I got serious about it, I was an idiot—I let myself believe her sadness, I comforted her, and then suddenly, we had a daughter. And just like that, I was shackled all over again. I guess I just gave up on everything then,” His hands curled into fists against his knees. “But it’s not just about me. There are the kids, the family name, the expectations… you, this baby.”

Bri’s voice dropped lower, steady but firm. “Just so we’re clear—this child does not mean we have to get married, Brad. It’s not the 1950s, and I’m already raising my daughter on my own, with the village that is my family. If it comes to that, I can do it again.” She exhaled sharply. “So don’t throw away your carefully curated façade for me. If you tear it down, do it because you want to—not because you think you have to.”

Her gaze didn’t waver. Brad shifted beside her, rubbing a hand over his jaw, but he didn’t speak. The fire crackled softly between them, filling the silence.

“I knew exactly what I was doing when I got involved with a married man, and I didn’t care,” she continued. “And the more I hear about your marriage, the less I care still.” She paused, watching him for a beat before delivering the final blow. “But what we did—that was a choice, Brad. Yours for your life, mine for mine.”

Brad’s jaw tightened, his voice heavier now. “It was my choice—I knew I was cheating, and I’d make that same choice all over again. Every time.” His fingers pressed against his knees, his posture tense but certain. “At first, I thought… maybe it was just something I needed to feel again. You. Us. I didn’t think it would last—I figured I’d take whatever you were willing to give, and when it burned out, I’d walk away with the memories.”

He hesitated, his gaze flickering toward her. “Part of me was terrified you’d go back to Jackson. That I’d lose you all over again. So I told myself it was temporary, that I wouldn’t let myself hope for more.”

Brad exhaled, shaking his head slightly. “But it didn’t burn out. You are still here, with me. This is real, not just a fleeting dream. Like you said, that fact and this baby changes everything for me.” His gaze met hers, unwavering. “I want this. I want you. Hell, I’ve always wanted you. I never stopped.” His voice dipped lower, rougher. “And maybe, for the first time in a very long time, it feels like there’s actually something more for me, something to strive for, something worth living for. Something real. Something lasting. So, I already made my choice, Bri. I chose you. Us. This baby. And I am leaving everything else behind.”

His gaze darkened. “Divorcing Molly will be ugly, and the Old Guard won’t let it go quietly, you know how things are in the Bay things like this, especially involving my family name will be the talk of the town and beyond. It’s absurd, I know. But my entire life—before I was even born—was built around preserving the Cunningham legacy.”

Brad exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe I was never meant to win. I spent my life doing what I was told, following the path laid out for me like some well-trained puppet. And you—” His voice faltered for a split second before he pushed forward. “You always had a choice. Even when they tore us apart, even when I was ready to burn it all down for you in college, I still thought you might go back to Jackson. I still think that even now. You always have.” His lips curled, not in bitterness, but something deeply wounded. “I never had the luxury of believing you’d choose me, not really. Why would you? I pale in comparison and you do not need fame or money, you have all that yourself.”

Bri stiffened, her fingers tightening around the blanket before she turned to face him fully. “Oh, cut the self-pitying crap, Brad,” she snapped, eyes flashing. “Don’t you dare act like I didn’t love you enough. We were kids, and we fought like hell. And yeah, I went back to Jackson more times than I should have, but that’s not what this is. This – this is not some years-old cycle of bad decisions. I am NOT going back to Jackson. Not this time.” She inhaled sharply, shaking her head. “You want me to say it outright? Fine. I am invested in you. In us. I wouldn’t be here otherwise. I chose you that day we met back in Bay, I chose you when I kissed you up on that lighthouse, when I slipped you my room key. And I have been choosing you ever since and I am still choosing you.”

She exhaled, her voice softening but no less firm. “But let’s be realistic for a minute here: our relationship makes no sense right now. We live on opposite sides of the country. I just rebuilt my life, again, for my daughter, and I can’t just set fire to it all and run to you, especially when your life is about to blow apart in ways no one can predict. And let’s not kid ourselves—everyone where you live knows exactly who I am, I grew up there too. My name, my face, my past, our past, they remember everything, including that we were together all through high school and everyone, including ourselves, always thought we’d get married one day. That doesn’t just disappear. You know the rumors will be vicious.”

Brad swallowed hard, searching her face. “So what? We just pretend this thing between us doesn’t exist? I can’t do that Bri, and I won’t just fade away. Not this time.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line. “That’s not what I am saying. I’m saying we figure it out before we destroy everything. Walk, not run into this. Together.”

The fire crackled softly, a steady rhythm against the silence. Outside, snow continued to fall, blanketing the world in untouched white. Inside, warmth filled the small cabin, yet neither of them seemed to feel it—not in the way they needed.

Inside, everything was already changing.

Bri’s gaze didn’t waver. “You’ve spent your whole life living for other people, Brad. Ever since I have known you someone has dictated to your every move, every decision for you. When we were younger that was maybe understandable, but I feel like it’s still happening now. Maybe it’s time to live for yourself—for us. If life has taught me one thing, it’s that happiness is fleeting, and nobody escapes heartbreak. Nobody. There will be more, Brad, but you are in control of the in-between and what that looks like.”

Her words struck a chord, and Brad felt something inside him shift. He ran a hand through his hair, his fingers trembling slightly. “I do know what I want that to look like exactly. All I know is I want to be with you, Bri. But I need to figure out how to do this without destroying everything—including us. Do you want to be with me? I mean, full-time? You know, permanently?”

Bri’s expression softened, and she leaned back against the couch, her hand resting protectively over her stomach. “I’ve been asking myself that ever since you dropped me off at the airport after our first reunion. There’s a long version of my resolve and a long pro and con list, but the short answer is: yes. Yes, I do want that. I choose you Brad, and I choose us. But if you want to be with me, things will change. I will hold you accountable for your own life, Brad.”

She hesitated, voice quieter now. “And Brad, I’m scared too. I honestly didn’t think I could get pregnant again. When I had the twins, it wasn’t a clean hospital birth—it was a homegrown hack out in the prairie. I’ll spare you the gore, but it involved Jackson cutting the umbilical cords with a pocketknife he sterilized over an open campfire.”

Brad made a noise, something halfway between shock and amusement.

Bri gave a small, tired smile. “Add that to all the issues I already had, you know I was told I was basically barren as a teen, then when I did get pregnant the doctors practically told us to enjoy the twins, because there wouldn’t be any more kids ever. It felt like a miracle, but it was a rough pregnancy. I spent most of it at my parents’ place, practically homebound and kinda bedridden, needing constant checkups. There were complications. They told me—even if I got pregnant again—it was unlikely I’d carry to term. So please, don’t go picking out names and nursery colors. So, for a lot of reasons…this feels impossible. We shouldn’t get too attached to the idea of this. It likely won’t end with us being parents. And we have to face that fact so it doesn’t destroy us before we even got started again,” She exhaled. “Why I ask you—don’t speak to anyone about the baby. Not yet. I won’t. Not until I can’t hide it anymore, which would probably mean we are mostly over the worst. Still, the fact that it happened again… Oh, man.”

Brad moved to sit beside her, covering her hand with his own. “I won’t mention it until we’re both ready to reveal and while I don’t think we should even worry about this, whatever may happen won’t change how I feel about you or us. You’re stronger than you think, Bri. I know as a physician I’m not supposed to say that—not even think it—but something inside of me tells me you’ll carry this baby to term. A healthy, feisty, happy Cunningham raised the right way from the start with love and support to do anything and be anything he or she wants to be. My kids are already stuck in the old Cunningham rut. I didn’t know any better, even though I should have.” His grip tightened slightly. “We’ll be parents. Together. And as much as what has to happen first scares me, I want it. I’ll get divorced whatever it takes and you will have an easy pregnancy and birth and I promise you—we won’t be using a pocketknife.”

His words pulled a soft laugh from both of them.

The firelight flickered over them, painting warm golds across Bri’s face. Brad watched her, the weight of everything settling deep in his chest.

“I want you to know something too, Bri. That night… it wasn’t just about passion or lust,” he said quietly. “It was about hope. Seeing you walk back into my life when you appeared at the restaurant out of the blue felt like an angel sighting. When you kissed me at the lighthouse, it changed everything for me. For the first time in years, I felt alive. You know me Bri, I am not the type to visit ladies in their hotel rooms. You make me feel alive. And now, with this… maybe it’s a sign. A chance to start over. You and I having a baby together? I mean, I don’t even have the words to describe how much that would change everything for me.”

He took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. “All my life, I was a stage prop for other people. Born to be the heir. Then I graduated to being the one who created the next heir. My feelings never mattered. I was a tool—to keep the medical empire running, to ensure the legacy continued. To other people, I’m a walking ATM, someone to endorse their ideas or bankroll them. Or in my wife’s case, get them in the door to the upper circles. I don’t have to tell you this, you know as well as I do that for Molly, I was her ticket into the Old Guard of Brindleton Bay. And that’s why she won’t let go easily. She doesn’t love me. I don’t love her. But if she loses me, she loses everything—except for what I give her willingly. Say what you will about my late father, but he had her sign a watertight and fireproof prenup, and a separate document for each child deferring physical custody in case of divorce. The fact that I can easily proof she’s been stepping out on me for years means, when she loses me she loses everything, the money, the house, the lifestyle, she loses the VIP status, and she won’t like it. She’s going to use the kids against me. I know it.”

Bri’s lips curved into a faint smile, though her eyes remained cautious. “Starting over isn’t easy, Brad. I would know—I’ve had to do it several times now. But I can also tell you it’s worth it. Your kids love you. Make sure they know that, and her tricks won’t work. Kids are a lot smarter than people think.”

Brad hesitated. “Do you still… love him? Jackson I mean.”

Bri’s expression flickered—thoughtful, careful. She sighed, the weight of the question pressing into her. “Jackson and I talked about this the other day. I think the way he handled things really hurt me—it didn’t just wound me, it reshaped something inside me. With you and me, Brad, it was your father interfering. That was different—we fought him, we tried. But with Jackson… it was all him. His actions. His choices. He knew exactly what they would do to me, and he did them anyway. I don’t think he meant to hurt me. But he never once tried to stop it. That kind of neglect, that kind of quiet betrayal, it breaks you in a way you don’t feel until it’s too late. If you’re afraid I’ll choose him over you—don’t be. That chapter is closed. Because there are only so many times a heart can break before it never mends again.”

Brad looked genuinely relieved.

He pulled her into a gentle embrace, his arms wrapping around her as if shielding her from the weight of the world. She rested her head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

Outside, the snow continued to fall—a quiet reminder of the world beyond their cabin. A world they would have to face soon enough.

“We’re gonna have this baby, Bri. We’re gonna be parents. We’re gonna be a couple. We’re going to be all we were meant to be—all we wanted to be.”Brad’s voice was steady now, resolved. “I’ll call my attorneys as soon as they start their day back home, and I’ll get the ball rolling. It’ll look bad, but I don’t want to wait until I get home.”

Bri tilted her head, eyes narrowing, assessing. “So, you really want all this?”

“I do…”

She hummed, almost skeptical. “You really do?”

His gaze didn’t waver. “More than anything.”

“Well, then… no time like the present.” Her lips curled into something sly. “You think this is all gonna play out the way we hope? Prove it. Show me. Ring up your overpaid attorneys from their wet dreams and make them actually earn those obscenely huge retainers.”

Before he could react, she reached behind him, tugging his phone from the back pocket of his new jeans and smacking it into his palm. “Come on, Brad. Let’s see some action. Or is that hesitation I see creeping in?”

The First Domino Falls

Bri watched Brad pace outside, the sharp crunch of snow beneath his boots echoing through the still morning air. The luxury cabin sat nestled in the mountains, secluded, the perfect hideaway—but that didn’t mean they could escape reality.

The porch was dusted with fresh snowfall, a thin layer covering the railing where he leaned, phone pressed to his ear, fingers raking through his hair with growing frustration. Even through the frosted window, she could see the tension in his shoulders, the rigid set of his jaw.

Inside, the fire had burned low, embers pulsing faintly in the dimly lit room. Bri turned her attention back to her tea, methodically stirring honey into the warm liquid, watching as the golden ribbons disappeared into the amber depths. An idle distraction. A small moment of control while the conversation outside played out.

Fragments of his voice cut through when the wind carried them inside—words like custody battle, prenup, timing, publicity nightmare.

Brad was doing what he always did—trying to control the situation before it controlled him. But this wasn’t a boardroom or a surgical suite. This was messy, personal, and entirely out of his hands.

Then, crystal clear:

“I don’t care how bad it looks. I want the paperwork started. Today.”

Bri pressed the rim of her cup to her lips but didn’t sip, her thoughts swirling too fast to settle. She wasn’t naïve—the divorce would be an ugly spectacle—but she hadn’t expected Brad to push forward so aggressively. Part of her admired his resolve. Part of her feared what would come next. And another part—perhaps the loudest—was just so sick and tired of the broken, incomplete dreams she’d clung to for far too long with Jackson.

When things were good with Jackson, they were breathtaking. He had that cool, reckless, renegade cowboy charm—the kind that made promises feel like adventures, even when they led nowhere. She had been swept up in his wild energy, convinced that love could conquer instability, convinced that the waiting, the hoping, the suffering would be worth it in the end. But more often than not, the reality was stark, unforgiving. The warmth would fade, the charm would crack, and she’d be left standing in the ruins of another broken promise. She had wanted a life with him so badly, for so long, but each disappointment cut deeper than the last.

And some mistakes weren’t just disappointments—they were betrayals. Like the time he forgot Briony’s EpiPen, nearly costing them their daughter. Or the time she walked in on him with a naked Taylor, proof that his reckless streak wasn’t just about finances or forgotten responsibilities. And then there was the worst of them all—the day she came home to a foreclosed house, her life upended because Jackson had been too proud to ask her family for help. Too stubborn to admit he couldn’t handle everything on his own. That was Jackson. Charming until the moment it mattered. Too much of a cowboy when it counted most, with priorities that absolutely didn’t align with Bri’s.

Her gaze shifted to Brad. So different from Jackson—so steady, so sure. To those who didn’t know him like she did, Brad might seem boring, predictable, even rigid. But Bri knew better. He wasn’t just dependable—he was something far rarer. Brad was like tarnished gold at first glance, unassuming. But once you looked closer, once you really saw him, you uncovered something precious. Solid, unwavering, shining with a quiet brilliance that didn’t demand attention—but deserved it all the same.

Brad wasn’t reckless. He wouldn’t play games with her heart, wouldn’t gamble with her future. He was everything Jackson wasn’t. And maybe—just maybe—that was exactly what she needed. Clearly Jackson wasn’t, no matter how much she had wanted him to be. But after ten years of on and off, back and forth, highs followed by the lowest lows, she was done.

The door swung open, bringing a wave of icy air with it as Brad stepped inside, slipping off his coat before placing it neatly over the back of a chair while pulling off his boots. His expression was sharp, calculated—his business face—but when he met her gaze, some of the edges softened. He rubbed his hands together briskly, trying to chase away the cold clinging to him.

Bri watched him, her heart softening. Without a word, she stood and walked toward him, letting her warmth contrast the chill still wrapped around him. She reached for his hands, wincing at the ice in his fingers, then rubbed them between hers.

“You’re freezing,” she murmured, a small smile tugging at her lips. She winked at him, then, with a mischievous glint in her eye, lifted his hands and tucked them under her sweater, pressing them against her skin.

Brad inhaled sharply, his body stiffening as his palms brushed against her stomach. Slowly, he sat down, pulling her with him, settling her onto his lap. He hesitated, his hands stilling as if afraid he’d gone too far. But Bri only smiled, her gaze steady and reassuring. She reached down, her fingers curling around his wrists, and guided his hands back to her stomach.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, her voice soft but firm.

His hands rested there, tentative at first, then more certain. The flatness of her stomach gave nothing away, but they both knew. Five weeks along. A fragile, precious secret shared between them.

Brad’s throat worked as he swallowed hard, his gaze flicking up to meet hers. “Bri…”

She leaned in, her lips brushing his in a kiss that was tender and full of quiet promise. When she pulled back, her smile was radiant, her eyes shining with something unspoken but deeply felt.

Brad settled into the chair, Bri still perched in his lap, the warmth of her body melting away the last traces of cold from outside. She shifted slightly, adjusting herself against him, her presence grounding, reassuring.

Wordlessly, she reached for her cup of tea, steam curling into the air, and lifted it to his lips. “Here,” she murmured, tilting it just enough for him to take a sip. “You need this more than I do.”

Brad hesitated for only a moment before leaning forward, letting her guide the cup to him. The heat spread through him, chasing away the lingering chill, and he exhaled deeply.

“I spoke with the attorneys,” he said, his voice lower now, more worn. “They had a lot to say.”

Bri set the cup down, her hands lingering on his chest as she held his gaze steady. “Like what?”

His fingers curled lightly against her waist, his grip instinctive, almost as if drawing strength from her. “They’re worried about timing. They said divorcing now—without warning—will make it seem like I’m hiding something. Which, let’s be real, I am. The Old Guard will latch onto that. My family’s legacy, the hospital board, everyone tied to my father’s name—they’ll dig into every detail.”

Bri shifted slightly in his lap, her presence grounding him as much as her steady gaze. She nodded, listening, her fingers brushing lightly over his chest as if to reassure him.

“They said Molly could drag this out for years if I rush it. She could contest the prenup, reject the settlements and offers, claim emotional distress, argue that I’m abandoning my kids—even though she knows damn well I’d never do that. Basically, they think I need to lay the groundwork first. Make sure Molly isn’t blindsided, make it look… strategic. Lift the curtain and let people see that our marriage has been a façade for years.”

Bri’s fingers tightened around her cup, absorbing the warmth. “So, what does strategic look like?”

Brad sighed, the weight of the conversation pressing into him. “They suggested waiting a few weeks before making it official. Get back home, make it known to the right people in close circles that things aren’t working. You know, man talk with the rest of the old guard from the Bay, whine about my mean gold-digger wife and her affair, things they will all understand, so they’re all compassionate and on my side. If I do this, which goes against my grain but I know I can do it, I have already won as they are the powerful people who can change the entire context to whatever they decide it should be. I need to slowly detach, make it clear that separation is inevitable before papers are filed. That way, she can’t spin it like I just woke up one day and left her for someone else.”

Bri raised an eyebrow, her lips curving slightly. “You did wake up and leave her for someone else.”

A flicker of amusement crossed his features, a brief reprieve from the tension. “Yeah, well. Lawyers prefer appearances over reality.”

She let out a small breath, rolling the thought around in her head. “I see their logic. Less backlash. You think this will stay quiet long enough?”

His expression darkened slightly, the weight of the stakes settling over him. “It has to.”

Brad ran a hand down his face, exhaling slowly, then looked at her. “And your name stays out of it. No matter what happens, no matter what Molly tries—I won’t let them drag you into this.” His fingers brushed over her stomach, the barest touch, reverent and careful. “Especially not now. I abhor hiding you but in this case it’s to protect you and our baby and your kids and mine from the fallout.”

Bri’s breath caught slightly, and then her brows knit together as realization settled over her.

“If we really manage to carry to term…” she murmured, thinking through the timeline. “The tour.”

Brad didn’t respond immediately, but she could see it in his eyes—he was already doing the math. Late second trimester. Early third. The tour had barely made it out of the planning stages, but if she wanted any hope of a healthy pregnancy, it would have to be postponed before they even announced it.

She let out a shaky breath, staring at him for a long moment. “Shit. I’ll have to postpone it. No way I can do that. If this pregnancy actually does happen, it will likely be similar to before and I couldn’t even drive myself to get a coffee, let alone bounce around a stage for 3 hours every night. Need to come up with a solid reason without telling them the real solid reason.”

Brad tightened his hold on her waist, his voice low, steady. “We’ll figure it out.”

Silence stretched between them, heavy but not suffocating. Brad reached across the table, taking her hand, running his thumb along her knuckles. The warmth of his touch anchored her, steady despite the chaos swirling around them.

“I know this isn’t the start you imagined, Bri. And I don’t know what’s coming next, not really. But I do know this—I’m not going to let this fall apart. You, me, the baby…whatever happens, I’m in.”

For the first time since this nightmare began, Bri found herself believing him.

Outside, the world remained untouched—the snow falling in slow, delicate flurries, the mountains standing quiet and unmoved.

“You need to listen to them,” Bri said finally, breaking the silence. “If Molly is going to fight this—and we both know she will—the divorce won’t be finalized before the baby is born anyway. There’s no point in rushing into chaos when you can at least prepare for it. Take it from someone who grew up in the public spotlight—if you can avoid creating scandals, avoid them. If not, own them.”

Brad turned to face her, frustration flickering across his features. “I hate waiting. I hate keeping this quiet. I have kept quiet all my life. I want to shout from the rooftops that you love me the way I love you and we’ll be parents.”

Bri exhaled. “And I hate unnecessary drama. My family is known for chaos, Brad, but I don’t need to add to it with a public scandal. If you go into this divorce and Molly even has an inkling that I’m the reason, it will be absolute war.
Molly is already going to make this miserable for you, but if she finds out I’m involved? It’ll be much worse. It’s a girl thing. If you tell her you want out because you don’t love her anymore—or never did—she’ll flip, but she might eventually accept it. Maybe even agree, if what you’re telling me is true and she feels the same way.
If her side-dude is more than just a fling, if she’s happy to run off into the sunset with him, then maybe—maybe—she’ll just let you go. Especially if you offer her something big enough—a really big fat check, a new McMansion somewhere else, whatever she is into these days, something that makes leaving feel like less of a loss—she might bite.
But if she thinks you’re trading her in for someone else, especially me? If my name so much as enters the conversation, she’ll assume we’ve been sneaking around, and Lord have mercy, a woman scorned. She’ll dig in her heels like they’re cemented to the ground.
That would turn this into an all-out bloodbath. And you know it.”

Brad raked a hand through his hair, nodding slowly. “So, I just play the unhappy marriage card? Make it look like something inevitable?”

“Exactly.” Bri’s voice was firm. “It’s not even a lie. Make it seem like it was a long time coming, like it had nothing to do with anyone else. You don’t need to give her ammunition she doesn’t already have.”

Brad let out a deep sigh, his gaze flickering to the fire, the embers glowing faintly in the hearth.

“I don’t like hiding you.”

The early morning sun had barely begun creeping over the horizon, casting a golden glow across the snowy landscape outside the cabin. The world was still, blanketed in silence, save for the faint crackle of the fire in the hearth.

“I’m not asking you to hide me, Brad. I’m asking you to be smart,” Bri said, her voice steady but firm. “This is messy already. And it will get messier. We don’t need to play avengers of long-lost love and be stupid about it now. Serves absolutely no purpose.”

Bri settled against Brad, her back resting lightly against his chest, fingers idly tracing patterns along his forearm. Her voice was even, but firm. “See, the good news about me is, I’m just as high-profile as you are, from a very long line of high-profile people. The bad news? I’m just as high-profile as you are, from a lineage of high-profile VIPs.”

She turned slightly, tilting her head to glance at him. “Nobody will think you and I are together for money or fame. But because we’re famous in our own right and affluent, the second this goes public, the attention will be suffocating. This doesn’t need to happen at the same time news of the Cunningham divorce breaks. I’d be cast as the other woman—which I am—but we don’t need that out there for all eternity for our children to deal with. Our legacies don’t need that kind of drama. Not like this. There’ll be plenty of that when the dust settles, just on a much smaller scale, and you and I finally get the chance to be honest. People aren’t stupid—they’ll do the math. If this baby really makes it, it will not add up to us casually reconnecting after your divorce is finalized. It will happen. Just … differently. We’re controlling the narrative here.”

Brad’s fingers curled around the mug she handed him again, his knuckles whitening slightly as he listened.

“Look Brad, it will not be as secret as you might think. I won’t be able to have this child in secret,” Bri continued, her voice softening. “If this pregnancy pans out, the world will know eventually. My schedule is packed. The album’s coming out soon, and even if I hold off touring, I still have to do PR, one way or another, and if I do it via video calls and such. Either way, people will notice.”

Brad’s expression softened, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “And then what?”

Bri’s lips curved into something between a smile and a grimace. “Then we figure it out. Most likely, I’ll pull the big fat mystery route and keep everyone guessing. The nice part about being in the entertainment business is that we’re supposed to be eccentric. Besides, there are so many lies and rumors spread all the time, most people are confused about what’s true and what’s not. And one day, you and I will step into the bright sunlight and not hide anymore—from nobody. But not before you’ve handled this with Molly first. Our time will come, Brad. This time, nobody and nothing will stop us. Just delay us a bit.”

Brad reached across the table, his fingers curling around hers. “Won’t they just assume the baby is Jackson’s? Not sure how I feel about possibly reading that in the news, but I trust you, Bri. If this is what you think and want, then that’s what we’ll do. But I can’t stop seeing you. I have to see you. Often. Especially now. I want to be part of the pregnancy.”

She smirked, her fingers tightening around his. “You will be part and I will make clear to everyone that it isn’t Jackson’s. By now, we’re experts in adult hide-and-seek. And the good part about me having so many relatives is they know how to keep a secret too. We can visit them together, and nobody will know—only them. And besides, my family already will know, just wait. The minute one of them even suspects I’m pregnant, they’ll call me out. I won’t lie to them, and they’ll know whose baby it is. Plus, I know any pregnancy I manage to have is automatically high-risk, so I’ll have to go to the doctor for monitoring. Considering all this, there are exactly two doctors I trust—you and Connor. I already laid the groundwork. I didn’t hide you from them even after you and I just started seeing each other—that was very deliberate. I was showing you that I am serious about you. Between that and them inadvertently finding out about my pregnancy sooner rather than later, whether I want them to or not, I will tell you if one of them knows, all of them will know. It’s called the Cameron grapevine.”

Brad let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Alright. At least we have a plan now. But, now what, Bri?” he asked, his tone light but curious.

“Now we get ready for the day,” she replied, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I spent all day yesterday in a small Komorebian hospital and puked my guts out the night before. I’m ravenous. I’ll take a nice, long, hot shower now while you find us a place for breakfast. Preferably one that serves food without fish jizz.”

Brad raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Counteroffer: I’m all about water conservation, so how about I join you in the shower? And while you do your girly morning routine, I’ll go on a quest for breakfast—all of the above without any… umm… jizz of any kind,” he added, stumbling slightly over the words.

The way he stumbled made her laugh, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “You’re adorable when you try to sound like a Cameron, Mr. Cunningham,” she teased, her voice warm.

“Doctor Cunningham, if you please,” he quipped back, his grin widening.

“Fine, Doctor. Let’s get us into the shower before I get hangry,” she said, tugging playfully at his arm.

“Bri?” he asked, his voice softening.

“Brad?” she replied, tilting her head curiously.

“Do you know that in all those years of marriage, I never once took a shower with Molly?” he admitted, his gaze dropping for a moment.

Bri tilted her head, her expression softening. She remembered the day they reconnected, how she had casually invited him to join her in the shower back at her hotel after their night of passion beforehand. It wasn’t just the intimacy of the moment—it was the way his eyes had lit up, as though she had handed him something immensely special, something he hadn’t realized he’d been missing.

Brad’s voice softened further, his eyes meeting hers. “You know, Bri, when you invited me that day… it wasn’t just about the shower. It was the first time I felt like I might be more to you than just a fond memory. Like I could actually matter to you again, not just as someone from your past, a fleeting moment of relived nostalgia.”

Bri’s chest tightened, warmth blooming beneath her ribs. She had thought she understood the significance of that day, of the way they had slipped back into something achingly familiar—but now she saw it through his eyes, realizing what it had meant for him.

Her fingers found his, threading together gently. “Brad…” she murmured, shaking her head slightly, like she was trying to process the weight of his words. “You do matter to me. You always have. But that day… maybe it was when I started seeing you not just as a piece of my past, but as part of my future, too. I mean, except the pesky fact that you are actually married to someone else. That part is still cringe.”

Brad let out a breath, his thumb running absentmindedly over the back of her hand. “Yeah,” he said quietly, a wry smile playing on his lips. “That part really is cringe, and I guess it will have to be for a while longer,” His voice carried an edge of bittersweet humor, but there was something deeper beneath it—an unspoken longing, a frustration with the circumstances he couldn’t change.

She searched his face for a beat before her lips curled into something soft and knowing. “I didn’t mean to make things harder for you,” she admitted. “I didn’t even realize that moment meant so much to you until now.”

He shook his head slightly, squeezing her fingers. “You didn’t make things harder. You just made me remember what it feels like to really be with someone again. Not out of obligation, not out of habit. Just… because they WANT to be. Dare I say, because they want me. Because you want me.”

“Oh, I want you alright. There’s something else you might not remember about us Camerons—we’re very sensual people and do a lot of crazy shit when it comes to certain aspects of relationships. And on top of that we are also a very fertile bunch, apparently even those among us who were told we couldn’t even have kids to begin with, exhibit A standing before you. Which is why there are so many of us. Can’t help it. I don’t think there’s ever been a monk, priest, or nun recorded in our entire family tree, and that’s why,” she explained, her tone both amused and matter-of-fact.

Brad chuckled, his gaze warm as he looked at her. “Oh, I remember. You were like that back then too. I remember that trip to Tartosa…” he said, his voice trailing off with nostalgia.

“Right. And I remember a certain trip to Tomarang. Someone booked us into the honeymoon suite,” she countered, raising an eyebrow at him.

“What can I say, wishful thinking. Even then,” he replied, his voice tinged with humor.

“We were 16!” she exclaimed, shaking her head with a laugh.

“17. And, well, I told you at some point why. I wanted to marry you. Even then. Bri… would you ever get married again? I know you’ve done it twice now. Would you try a third time?”

Bri’s smile softened, her voice quiet but steady. “Brad, let’s cross that bridge when we can see land again. I can’t and don’t even want to think about marriages right now. It’s not a no, Brad—it’s a let’s take it one step at a time, okay? Speaking of steps, how about taking those into the shower now?”

For now, they had time. But soon enough, everything would change.

Brad exhaled slowly, pressing his forehead against hers for just a moment, grounding himself. “You’re right. As much as I hate waiting, I trust you. We’ll do this the smart way.”

Bri’s fingers trailed up his arm, a quiet reassurance. “That’s all I needed to hear. No rush needed, Brad. If I have proven one thing abundantly, it’s that I am loyal AF if I love. I have been through hell and back with you before, and I have done that with Jackson. Now I am ready to do it with you again, and hopefully for the last time, whether or not we get married, I am yours Brad.”

A beat passed before she smirked, mischief flickering in her eyes. “Now, Doctor Cunningham, if you will excuse me while I am going to take a very, very long shower.”

Brad chuckled, shaking his head. “I will not excuse you while we take a very, very long shower.”

She raised a brow, amused. “We? Listen to you, Cunningham. All assertive and shit.”

“You’ve created a monster, Bri!”

Before she could react, Brad scooped her up effortlessly, laughter spilling from her lips as he carried her toward the bathroom.

“Brad—”

“Too late. This is happening.”

He sat her down and kissed her while reaching in to heat up the shower while they peeled each other out of their clothing which was discarded carelessly to the floor before they turned in an almost dance-like motion into the shower.

Moments later, steam curled into the air, enveloping them in warmth as the tension of their earlier conversation faded. Their movements were unhurried, comfortable—like something familiar and entirely theirs.

Brad closed his eyes for a moment as Bri’s hands worked gentle circles across his shoulders, the scent of her soap lingering between them. “You take good care of me,” he murmured.

She smirked, pressing a palm against his chest, steady and teasing. “Someone has to. You’re a pitiful mess when left unsupervised.”

He laughed, pulling her closer, reveling in the ease of their affection.

They got out and once both dried off, Brad lunged forward, scooping her up and tickling her as they stumbled into the bedroom, both giggling uncontrollably as he let both of them fall onto the bed, the tickling turned into kissing, but the giggling remained.

Eventually the hunger feelings got stronger, and they decided to return to the originally scheduled program.

Bri, now wrapped in a plush towel trying to decide her outfit, smiled at Brad, who was already partially dressed in the crisp, new clothes she had bought him. “Alright, Doctor. Time for the next mission. Your baby is famished.”

Brad buttoned his shirt, watching her with a grin. “Which one? I am looking at two right now.” he winked, then continued. “Breakfast, sans questionable ingredients. On it.”

She pointed a finger at him, her tone mock-serious. “And Brad, find a place with coffee. I am a Cameron and if I ever needed it, it’s now. I mean it. And no weird foods. I am all for experimenting but not today. If they bring us any of that crazy stuff, I am feeding it all to you.”

With one last glance at her—glowing, at ease—Brad grabbed his phone to start his search. “Fine, but I will add the disclaimer of being a tourist here, should I accidentally find somewhere with fish jizz on the menu. But you have my word we won’t order any of this.”

As Brad grabbed his phone to start his search, Bri smirked, twisting the towel in her hands. Without warning, she flicked it at him, the snap of fabric catching him off guard.

“Hey!” Brad yelped, jumping back, his laughter spilling out as he dodged her next attempt.

“Consider that motivation to find something good,” Bri teased, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

Vacationing

The morning light filtered in through the blinds of floor-to-ceiling windows, painting golden streaks over the sleek dark wood of the restaurant. Mount Komorebi’s snow-capped peaks loomed in the distance, an elegant contrast to the vibrant cherry blossoms framing the streets below. The faint murmur of conversations in Japanese blended with the occasional chime of fine china. A server moved gracefully between tables, refilling cups of matcha and carefully placing lacquered trays laden with delicate portions of tamagoyaki, miso soup, and exquisitely arranged sushi.

Bri couldn’t help but laugh, shaking her head slightly as she picked at her plate. “Can you please stop micro-analyzing me? I’m fine. I’m eating, it’s staying down, and the meds are working—all good.”

Brad took a slow sip of his hojicha, watching her over the rim of his cup, a teasing glint in his eye. “Who says I’m analyzing anything? Maybe I just want to admire your beauty.” He grinned, making her giggle, but the moment softened as his expression grew more solemn. “While I still can.”

Her head tilted slightly. “Braddy…”

A sad smile touched his lips. “I always loved it when you called me that. Silly, I know. I don’t know how long it will be until I see you again. While I lay that groundwork my lawyers want me to do I probably can’t risk it. Sounds like more hell than the divorce will be.”

She exhaled, shaking her head. “We’ll make it through. We’ve made it through worse. This is a cakewalk for us.”

The scent of grilled fish and yuzu drifted between them as breakfast continued, but as Bri glanced down at the delicate arrangement of fresh sashimi on her plate, she wrinkled her nose and began transferring it, piece by piece, onto Brad’s tray without hesitation. He arched an eyebrow.

“That’s just regular sashimi, nothing naughty,” he said, amused.

“I know,” she murmured. “No raw fish for me anymore. Not for a while. Shame on you for forgetting, Dr. Cunningham.”

His expression softened even further as he watched her, a silent understanding passing between them before she returned to nibbling on her food.

“I don’t want this trip to end,” Brad said suddenly, barely touching his own breakfast, his fingers tracing the delicate porcelain of his plate absently. “I know once it does I am gonna have to be this person I am not, a person I don’t want to be anymore, not only will that be nasty, but I won’t be able to see you for a long while and that scares me. I don’t know how I can get through that. I want to be with you, Bri. I wish I hadn’t let my father—”

Before he could finish, she set down her chopsticks and slid onto his lap without hesitation. His cheeks flushed as heads turned—some diners whispering, others politely averting their gazes—but Bri didn’t seem to care. And when her lips met his, arms winding around his neck, neither did he.

When the kiss broke, she lingered close, her mouth just beside his ear, voice a whisper beneath the soft notes of koto music playing overhead.

“We’ll get there. I am sure we can do video calls and such. We’ll make do. But first, we have to be strong, be patient, and wait.”

“Wait?” His voice was barely a breath. “What do you mean? Wait for what, Bri?”

She pulled back slightly, her eyes full of mischief, flickering like candlelight against polished lacquer tables.

“For your revolution.” Her smile was electric. “This will be a revolution and when it’s all over, we will follow it up with our renaissance. It is damn time that you take the reins of your life fully. It won’t be easy, but it will be so worth it. It will be intense; I’ll be there to see you through. You may stumble, and I will be there to catch you.” She winked.

Brad’s breath hitched, his gaze locked on hers as her words settled over him like a promise. A revolution. A renaissance. The weight of it both terrified and thrilled him, but the way she said it—like it was inevitable, like she believed in him—made him feel like maybe, just maybe, he could believe in himself too.

Brad let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “You make it sound so easy.”

“No, I don’t, and it’s not gonna be,” she said, her voice steady, her hand brushing against his cheek. “But nothing worth having ever is. And you, Dr. Bradford Cunningham, are worth it.” She hesitated for just a beat, then her voice softened, a flicker of vulnerability breaking through. “I’m hoping I’m worth it too?”

Brad’s gaze searched hers, his throat tightening. As if she didn’t already know. As if she wasn’t the reason he had allowed himself to dream again.

“Oh, Bri,” he whispered, his fingers tightening gently around hers, like he was holding on to something he wasn’t ready to lose. “You know you are absolutely everything to me. You weren’t just a memory I held onto all those years. You are the reason I even remember what love is supposed to feel like. You are the reason I even remember what being wanted feels like, and who made me want again. You made me dare to hope, to dream again.”

His voice broke slightly, and he swallowed hard, shaking his head. “I don’t know how I ever let you go. I wish I had told my father to go to hell—you know how I feel about all that. And now, I don’t know how I’m supposed to walk away again. Part of me just wants to say screw it all, burn every bridge, and never look back. If I didn’t have my children, I just might.”

For a moment, the world around them seemed to fade—the soft hum of conversation, the clink of porcelain, the faint notes of koto music. It was just them, suspended in a fragile, fleeting bubble of time.

… to be continued …