“Confirmed,” he smiles. “You are on the mend. Now we can reschedule our meeting. What day works for?—”
“It’s Wednesday,” I nod to the clock. “For another thirty minutes anyway. Unless you need to?—”
“No, Wednesday works.” He takes my cup and motions to the couch.
I sit down at one end, and he immediately covers me with a blanket that smells freshly laundered, grabs the remote, presses a button, and the gas fireplace comes alive. I can’t help but quietly laugh.
“What?” he asks, settling at the other end.
“I thought that was ornamental.”
“It has been for some time.” He states. “Annaliese suggested I have it inspected, cleaned, and ready for when the papers are signed.”
“The papers?” I ask.
“The deed to the house.”
“You’re buying —”
“Money has been exchanged, yes.”
“But—”
“During Miss Reyes’ visit,” he continues calmly, like we are discussing grocery lists and not the architecture of my entire life, “she mentioned that Lucy had found a beautiful home and family here. She said she would need to see the apartment if anything formal changes.”
My stomach tightens, instinctive and immediate.
“I don’t want her to have to move,” he says simply. “You and Lucy should be here. Even if you’d rather I leave.”
The room goes to that quiet space that presses on your ribs because you want to respond, but it’s too much, you could be… too much.
I press past it. “I don’t want you to leave.”
He studies my face and finally says. “Good.”
He reaches for my hand, warm and steady, grounding me in a way that still surprises me. His thumb traces a slow, absent-minded line over my knuckles and back again.
“You look like you’re bracing for something,” he says gently.
“I am,” I admit. “I don’t know what this looks like yet. And I—” I swallow and look away. “I can’t bear the thought of?—"
His hand stills. “Look at me.” I do. “Our situation is not the same as the one you’ve found yourself working to protect a child from a so-called man who wants public approval. You do not know me well enough yet, but one day you will see that public perception holds zero weight with me. People who know me, the person, not the heir to land, or the pro hockey player,” he holds his hand to his chest. “Me. I may be an ass, but I will not take children away from a woman who loves them. Especially not women who love like you do.”
My breath stutters despite my best efforts.
“That fear,” he continues, voice low and precise, “does not belong here. Not with me. Not in this house.”
I open my mouth, then close it again. Words feel inadequate. My body, traitorous as ever, supplies emotion instead. Tears sting, uninvited. He notices immediately.
“Oh,” he murmurs, shifting closer. “No. That was not meant to hurt.”
“It didn’t,” I say quickly. “It’s just… I didn’t know how badly I needed to hear that.”
His other hand comes up, resting over my stomach without ceremony or seeking permission. It’s protective in a way that doesn’t cage, that doesn’t claim, just acknowledges.
“And this one,” he adds softly, almost to himself. “This child will grow up knowing stability. Knowing they are wanted. Not tolerated. Not bargained over.”
I let my hand cover his. “You’re very confident for someone who hasn’t even had that conversation yet.”
