“It was…the dynamic,” she admits, shrugging one shoulder. “Walking into your house and seeing how domestic everything is. How easy Aidan is with you. How loved Isla is.”
She winces, like even saying it aloud stings. “I don’t know where I fit, or if I do.”
My heart twists a little for this woman sitting across from me who’s trying to claw her way back into something she left behind.
“I can’t pretend to know what that feels like,” I say. “I do know what it’s like to walk into a life and wonder if you’re allowed to stay, though. So…maybe we can all try to make space for each other.”
Emily offers the smallest, wryest smile. “You’re really…kind. It’s annoying.”
Aidan chuckles beside me. “Aye,” he says. “Kind, and apparently impossible to argue with.”
“I get that a lot.”
There’s a beat, and something shifts. A tiny, imperceptibleclick between us that loosens her shoulders, draws a small breathy chuckle from her lips.
Her gaze drops to my stomach. “So…you’re pregnant?”
I glance down instinctively, hand smoothing over the gentle swell beneath my sweater. “Mm. Yep. Not planned.”
She laughs. Really laughs this time, the sound awkward and bright and a little bit stunned, like she forgot she still had it in her.
“What are you having?” she asks.
“We don’t know yet. We were going to wait a little longer before telling Isla…which is why I wanted to talk to you first. Make sure we were all on the same page.”
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know. I wanted to.”
Emily swallows hard and nods. “Thank you.”
Her unexpected gratitude definitely isn’t something I was prepared for but it’s welcome, nonetheless.
“I’d still like to have something formal in place,” Aidan says, his voice gentle but firm. “For everyone’s sake.”
Emily turns her attention to Aidan. “That’s fair. I can…work with that.”
The tension in Aidan’s shoulders eases, and I feel his hand warm against my back. We’re getting somewhere. Progress.
forty-nine
LUCY
It’s strange just how quickly things can shift.
A conversation. A compromise. A breath held, then released. That’s how it’s been with Emily since we had that conversation. No dramatic breakthroughs, no glittering resolutions, just a slow, cautious thawing.
Aidan and Emily have agreed on a handful of terms, as tentative and fragile as they may be. She can spend time with Isla alone now, for short visits. No overnights. No shared custody. Just small, baby steps.
Every time she takes Isla’s hand and walks out the door, something in Aidan holds still. He doesn’t say it, but I know he’s counting every second until Isla returns. His trust doesn’t come easily, but he’s trying. That effort he’s putting in is the most vulnerable kind of love.
This morning, I watched Aidan closely as he handed Isla off to Emily. How he pretended not to hover by the window with his jaw clenched. He played it cool, all calm nods and clipped reassurances. But I saw the way his hands fisted at his sides like he was holding himself back from pulling Islaright back into the house.
I’ll never blame him for that. His protectiveness is part of what made me fall for him in the first place. He doesn’t give his heart in pieces. He gives it all at once, wrapped in armor and fire, fiercely and forever. Sometimes it’s like loving a storm—beautiful and brutal and impossible to contain—but I wouldn’t trade a second of it.
Still, I’ve had to remind him more than once that loving Isla means trusting her, too. Trusting that she’ll speak up. That she’s strong. That we’ve given her a home she feels safe enough to return to. That we’ve made space for her to grow into someone who knows she’s deeply, unwaveringly loved.
I’ve had to remind myself of that, too.
