Updated Oct 1, 2025 • ~11 min read
The second baby shower—the real one, the one Bianca insisted on throwing—was supposed to be intimate.
Just close friends. Twenty people max. Brunch at Bianca’s apartment, games that weren’t humiliating, gifts that were practical instead of performative.
“Nothing like Eleanor’s production,” Bianca had promised. “This is about celebrating you and the baby. Not appeasing the Cross family’s social obligations.”
Sienna was thirty-six weeks pregnant, officially on maternity leave from the job she’d never gone back to, and so ready to not be pregnant anymore that she’d agreed to the shower just to have something to do besides count contractions that went nowhere.
“You look beautiful,” Damon said as she struggled into a dress that barely fit.
“I look like I swallowed a beach ball.”
“A beautiful beach ball.” He kissed her neck. “Want me to come? I can hover protectively and glare at anyone who asks invasive questions.”
“No. This is my thing. Friend time. You go do—whatever it is you do on Saturday afternoons.”
“Work, usually. But I’ve been told I work too much.” He grabbed his phone. “I’ll be at the office if you need me. Call for any reason.”
“I’m going to brunch, not war.”
“With your friends and Bianca’s friends and who knows who else, anything’s possible.”
He wasn’t wrong.
Bianca’s apartment was decorated in tasteful blues and whites—balloons, banners, a table loaded with food that Sienna’s stomach immediately rejected because nausea had decided to make a third-trimester comeback.
“You made it!” Bianca pulled her into a careful hug. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I’m about to pop. How do people do this multiple times?”
“Selective amnesia, apparently.” Bianca guided her to a comfortable chair—the throne of honor, positioned so Sienna wouldn’t have to move much. “Everyone’s excited to see you. It’s been months since you’ve done anything social.”
“I’ve been busy growing a human and hiding from cameras.”
“Valid. But today, no hiding. Just friends celebrating your impending motherhood.”
The first hour was perfect. Friends from college, work acquaintances who’d stayed loyal despite the scandal, women from the prenatal class who’d become unexpected support. They played games, opened gifts, ate too much food, and laughed about the realities of impending parenthood.
Then someone knocked on the door.
Bianca frowned. “Everyone’s here. I’m not expecting anyone else.”
She opened the door, and the room went silent.
Lucas Cross stood in the hallway, holding a wrapped gift, looking like he’d rather be literally anywhere else.
“I’m sorry,” he said immediately. “I should have called. I just—I heard about the shower, and I wanted—” He stopped, seemed to notice everyone staring. “This was a mistake. I’ll go.”
“Wait.” Sienna was standing before she realized she’d moved. “You came.”
“I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry. I’ll just—” He thrust the gift at Bianca. “For the baby. Tell Sienna—tell her congratulations.”
“Lucas, wait.” Sienna moved toward him—slowly, because moving fast wasn’t an option anymore—and the room held its collective breath. “Come in. Please.”
“Sienna—” Bianca’s voice held a warning.
“It’s fine. It’s—he’s family. Sort of. He should be here.”
Lucas looked between her and the room full of women, clearly calculating escape routes. “I don’t want to intrude—”
“You’re not intruding. Come in. Have food. Meet my friends.” She lowered her voice. “Please. I want you here.”
He followed her inside like a man walking to his execution. The room was still silent, everyone recognizing him—either from the news or from Eleanor’s shower, where Lucas had been notably absent.
“Everyone, this is Lucas,” Sienna announced. “Damon’s brother. The baby’s uncle. He’s—he’s important to us, even if the situation is complicated.”
Awkward didn’t begin to cover it.
But Bianca, bless her, jumped in. “Lucas! We were just about to play the ‘guess the baby food’ game. You’re welcome to join, though I warn you, pureed peas look disturbingly similar to pureed spinach.”
“I think I’ll just—” Lucas gestured vaguely. “Watch. If that’s okay.”
“It’s okay.” Sienna settled back into her chair, and Lucas stood awkwardly by the wall, still holding the gift.
The games continued, but the energy had shifted. People kept glancing at Lucas, whispering, clearly dying to know what he was doing at his ex-fiancée’s baby shower for the baby that wasn’t his.
After half an hour of visible discomfort, Lucas approached Sienna’s chair. “Can we talk? Privately?”
“There’s a balcony,” Bianca offered, pointing.
Sienna followed Lucas outside—a small balcony, barely big enough for two people, overlooking the city. He immediately put distance between them, hands shoved in his pockets.
“I’m sorry,” he said again. “I shouldn’t have come. I just—I’ve been thinking about you. About the baby. And I wanted—” He stopped, frustrated. “I don’t know what I wanted.”
“To be included?” Sienna suggested gently. “To be part of this, even though it’s not yours?”
“Maybe. Yes. I don’t know.” He turned to face her. “I’ve been in therapy. A lot of therapy. Working through the—everything. And my therapist said I need closure. Real closure. Not just disappearing and pretending you don’t exist.”
“Is that what this is? Closure?”
“I think so. I wanted to see you happy. See you pregnant and healthy and surrounded by people who care about you. Wanted to give you something for the baby. Wanted—” His voice cracked. “I wanted to prove to myself I could be in a room with you and not fall apart.”
“Are you falling apart?”
“Little bit, yeah.”
Sienna laughed despite herself. “Lucas—”
“I’m working on it. On being okay with everything. With you and Damon, with the baby, with my life moving forward without you in it.” He pulled the gift from under his arm—a small wrapped box. “This is for him. For your son. I wanted him to have something from me. Something that says—I don’t know. That I’m sorry I made everything so hard. That I wish him a good life. That I’ll be the best uncle I can be, even from a distance.”
“You don’t have to be distant—”
“I do. For now. Maybe forever. I can’t—” He stopped, swallowed hard. “I can’t watch you be a family with him. Can’t watch you build the life I wanted. Not yet. Maybe not ever.”
“Lucas—”
“But I wanted you to know I’m trying. That I came today because I’m trying to be okay with this. Even if I’m not there yet.”
Sienna took the gift, her throat tight. “Thank you. For trying. For being here even though it’s hard.”
“I loved you,” he said quietly. “That doesn’t just stop because the circumstances changed. I’m still—I still care. About you, about the baby, about whether you’re happy. I just can’t be around it.”
“I understand.”
“Do you? Because I’m not sure I understand it myself.” He moved toward the door. “I should go before I make this weirder than it already is.”
“Lucas, wait.” She grabbed his wrist. “The baby’s name. We haven’t told anyone yet, but—I want you to know.”
“Sienna, you don’t have to—”
“James Damon Cross. James, after Damon’s great-uncle. The one who—”
“Who was estranged from his twin for thirty years because of a woman they both loved.” Lucas’s expression was unreadable. “You’re naming him after the family tragedy.”
“We’re naming him as a reminder. That we don’t have to repeat history. That brothers can survive this.” She met his eyes. “You’re his uncle, Lucas. You’ll be part of his life, even if you need distance right now. And I want him to carry a name that reminds all of us what we’re trying not to become.”
Lucas was quiet for a long moment. “That’s—that’s actually beautiful. And devastating. Very on brand for this whole situation.”
“We’re very on brand for making everything complicated.”
“Yeah. We are.” He squeezed her hand, then let go. “Take care of yourself, Sienna. Take care of James. And tell Damon—tell him I’m trying. It’s slow, but I’m trying.”
“I will.”
He left before she could say anything else, and Sienna stood on the balcony holding the gift, watching him disappear into the city.
When she returned inside, everyone pretended they hadn’t been eavesdropping.
“Everything okay?” Bianca asked carefully.
“Yeah. I think—yeah. It’s okay.”
She opened Lucas’s gift later, after the shower ended and most guests had left. Inside: a silver frame, expensive and elegant, with a note card.
For James’s first photo. May he always know he’s loved by everyone who matters. —Uncle Lucas
She was crying when Damon arrived to pick her up.
“What happened?” He saw the tears, the frame, immediately went on alert. “Did he upset you? I’ll kill him—”
“No. He was—he was perfect. Sad and broken but perfect.” She showed him the frame, the note. “He came to the shower. He brought a gift. He called himself Uncle Lucas.”
Damon read the note, his expression complicated. “He’s really trying.”
“He really is. It’s killing him, but he’s trying.”
“Did he say anything else?”
“That he can’t be around us. That he needs distance. That he’s in therapy.” She leaned against Damon, exhausted. “And I told him the baby’s name.”
“You told him about James?”
“I wanted him to know. Wanted him to understand what we’re hoping for. That this family doesn’t have to repeat its tragedies.”
Damon was quiet for a moment, holding her. “My brother named himself Uncle Lucas and then left before it got too hard.”
“Yeah.”
“That’s—I don’t know if that’s progress or heartbreaking.”
“Both. Definitely both.”
That night, Sienna lay in bed with Damon beside her, feeling James kick against her ribs.
“Four weeks left,” she said. “Maybe less if he decides to come early.”
“Are you ready?”
“No. Absolutely not. I’m terrified.” She turned to look at him. “What if I’m terrible at this? What if I can’t figure out how to keep him alive?”
“Then we’ll figure it out together. Badly. While calling your doctor and googling everything.” He kissed her forehead. “We’re going to be disasters, Sienna. But we’ll be disasters together.”
“Lucas showed up at my baby shower.”
“I know. You told me.”
“No, I mean—he showed up. After everything. After the amniocentesis and the public breakdown and disappearing for weeks. He showed up because he’s trying to be okay with this.” Her voice cracked. “And I’m so grateful and so guilty and so confused about what that means.”
“It means he’s healing. Slowly. In his own broken way.” Damon’s hand settled on her stomach. “And it means James will have an uncle who cares about him, even if that uncle needs distance.”
“Is it wrong that I want Lucas to be okay more than I want him to be part of our lives?”
“No. That’s—that’s actually healthy. You can care about him and still prioritize your own family.”
“Our family,” she corrected. “You, me, and James.”
“Our family,” he agreed.
Her phone buzzed. A text from Lucas:
Thank you for letting me be there today. It meant more than I can express. Take care of James. And yourself. I’ll see you when I’m ready.
Another text: That might be a while. But I’m working on it.
A final message: Tell Damon I don’t hate him anymore. That’s progress, right?
She showed Damon, who read them with an expression that was equal parts relief and sadness.
“He doesn’t hate me anymore,” Damon said. “That’s—I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear that.”
“You miss him.”
“Of course I miss him. He’s my brother. My twin. We’ve been orbiting each other our entire lives, and now there’s just—distance. Space where he used to be.”
“Maybe the distance is temporary.”
“Maybe. Or maybe this is what healing looks like for him. And for us.” Damon pulled her closer. “Either way, we’re okay. We have each other. We have James. We have enough.”
But that night, alone in the dark with James kicking and Damon sleeping beside her, Sienna thought about Lucas at the baby shower—standing awkwardly by the wall, holding that gift, trying so hard to be okay with something that was destroying him.
Guests gasped as the twins faced off across the cake, the tension thick enough to cut, and Sienna had stepped between them without thinking.
“Stop,” she’d said. “Both of you. This isn’t about you. This is about him.” Her hand on her stomach. “And he deserves better than watching his father and uncle destroy each other at his baby shower.”
Lucas had left shortly after. But he’d left the gift. Left the note. Left a piece of himself behind.
Uncle Lucas.
It wasn’t much. But it was something.
And in a family built on disasters and near-misses, something was more than they’d had any right to hope for.
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