Geoff had taken it. All of it. Head bowed. Apologetic. Properly contrite.
And then Lucy had looked up at her father, lower lip wobbling and eyes shining.
“I just wanted to be like Ivy.”
That had done it.
Theo’s shoulders had dropped instantly, the fight leaving him like air from a punctured balloon. He’d knelt down, pulled her into a hug, and murmured reassurances about not being cross, how Ivy would think her fringe was lovely, and how everyone makes mistakes.
Corbin men. Absolute softies. All of them pretending to be stern until a child looks at them like that.
The rest had been logistics. Coats. Shoes. One last warning glance at Geoff that saidwe will talk later. Lucy had waved enthusiastically, already over it.
And now it’s just me and Geoff.
He stands in the middle of the living room, hands on his hips, staring at nothing.
“Well,” he says eventually. “That went better than expected.”
I tilt my head. “You survived.”
“Barely.”
He exhales, then laughs quietly, the sound edged with leftover adrenaline. “I genuinely thought he was going to ground me.”
“You deserved it,” I say kindly.
“I know.”
We stand there for a moment, the flat settling around us again. No felt tips. No humming. Just the quiet buzz of the building and the faint clink of cooling walls.
Geoff rubs the back of his neck. “Thank you. For staying. For… everything.”
“You’re welcome,” I say. “You handled it.”
“I panicked.”
“Yes,” I agree. “But you recovered. That’s the important bit.”
He nods, absorbing that.
The silence stretches. Not awkward. Charged in a low, steady way.
This is it.
The quiet I’ve been waiting for. The moment without children or chaos or convenient distractions. I can feel it settling into place, heavy and inevitable.
I glance at him. At the man who just took a dressing down from his brother, who steadied a five-year-old on his hip without thinking, who looked genuinely undone by the idea of getting it wrong.
If there’s some higher power orchestrating things, it’s being laughably obvious now.
I take a breath.
“Geoff,” I say.
He looks up. “Yeah?”
And just like that, every rehearsed version evaporates.
