“Yeah?” His smile was gentle. “Good tears?”
I pulled him down to kiss me. “Don’t look so worried.”
“Can’t help it. You’re important to me.” He rolled to his side and pulled me against him, his arms wrapping around me like he couldn’t bear the space between us. “Really important.”
I buried my face in his chest, overwhelmed by how much this meant—by how much he meant. His hand traced patterns on my back, soothing and steady.
“I’ve never felt like this before,” he said quietly. “Like I’d do anything to keep you. Like being with you is the only thing that makes sense.”
I lifted my head to look at him. His expression was open, unguarded in a way I hadn’t seen before.
“You’ve changed something in me, Gianna. Made me want to be better than I’ve been. Made me think maybe I could be.”
“You’re already good, Archie.”
“I’m really not.” Something flickered across his face, too quick for me to read. “But being with you makes me want to try.”
I kissed him softly, tasting the vulnerability in his words. “You make me feel like wanting things isn’t selfish. Like maybe I’m allowed to be happy.”
“You are allowed.” His hand cupped my face. “You’re allowed to want everything and more. Don’t let anyone tell you different.”
We stayed like that, tangled together in lavender-scented sheets. Neither of us wanted to break the moment, to let reality intrude.
A gentle knock interrupted us anyway.
“Breakfast is ready when you are,” Mary called through the door.
Archie kissed my forehead and said we should probably get up, though his voice made it clear that was the last thing he wanted.
The drive back was quiet, but comfortable. His hand found mine across the console and stayed there the entire way, his thumb tracing familiar patterns. When we finally reached my building, he walked me to the door and kissed me like he was afraid this might be the last time.
“It won’t be,” I promised against his mouth. “I’m not going anywhere.”
He kissed me again and then he was saying goodbye.
I watched him drive away before heading upstairs, my chest feeling full in ways I didn’t quite know how to process. Everything had changed in twenty-four hours, and I was still trying to catch up.
That night, official documents arrived through the clinic portal. I opened them expecting routine case files.
Instead, I found fifteen years of internal Devlin Holdings records.
My hands started shaking as I scrolled through page after page of authorization memos, budget approvals, and displacement strategies. Everything we needed to win this case, handed to us perfectly organized and damning.
Then I reached the files from ten years ago.
My building. My address. Progress reports on successful displacement.
Authorization memos signed by A. Devlin, CEO.
The name didn’t register at first. My brain was still trying to process seeing my old address, seeing documentation of my family’s destruction laid out in corporate language.
Then it clicked.
A. Devlin.
I pulled up my search history with trembling hands, found the basic research I’d done weeks ago when I’d asked about his company. Hudson River Development, he’d said. I’d googled it, confirmed it existed, moved on.
I’d never Googled Devlin Holdings’ leadership.
