I roll my lips between my teeth, trying to settle myself. She’s not wrong. I saw it, I watched a man I thought I respected threaten one daughter with the future meant for the other, like he was just closing a business deal and nothing more.
And it made my skin crawl.
She takes a step closer, too close now, the scent of her — roses, a hint of vanilla, and the faint scent of sweat from her panic — overwhelms me.
“You don’t have to mean it.” She pushes a stiff lock of hair out of her face, those absurdly reflective brown eyes staring a hole through my skull now. She looks beautiful, even through the threat of more tears. Like someone I shouldn’t be anywhere near. “You just have to say yes.”
My jaw aches from how much I’ve clenched it. This is insane. I shouldn’t be considering this, I shouldn’t be this close to her, I shouldn’t want to say yes.
But I do.
And I can’t stop looking at hermouth.
Another step, and I can feel my resolve crumbling. Her voice drops. “Please, Harry.”
My eyes close. Half of my head is an onslaught of thoughts and promises I’d made to myself over the years: no one else afterlosing Geraldine, no more grief. But the other half is eating it alive with what might be the worst decision I will probably ever make in my life.
When my eyes open again, she’s still there, too close, looking at me like I’m the only choice she has left.
And I can’t be the man who says no to that.
Not today. Not after the carnage my son has caused. Not after the things I saw play out in that room.
I can help her. I can give her a small mercy.
I let out a slow breath, the kind that feels like it’s taking something on the way out. Maybe my better judgment, maybe my last ounce of self-preservation.
“Alright,” I rasp.
Her breath catches like she wasn’t actually expecting me to cave. Her eyes lock on mine, wide and searching, flicking between mine in disbelief. “You’re serious?”
“Yes.” I rub a hand over the back of my neck, already cursing the heat blooming in my chest. “We do this. We walk out there, we say the words. In the morning, we can go to the courthouse, get a new license, and make it official so that your father doesn’t lose his fucking mind.”
She nods, fast and desperate, her hands trembling as they fall to her sides. “Thank you,” she says, clearly trying to steel herself back into something sturdy.
“Don’t thank me,” I mutter, tipping my head toward the door. “Let’s just get this done.”
Before I change my mind.
