“The three of them—Ronan, Knox, Gabriel—made a pact in college,” Devney explained. “A formal agreement, written and signed. No serious relationships until they turned forty.”
Lucy stared. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Agreed,” Devney said. “But context matters. The oath itself is ridiculous. The fact that Gabriel kept it secret from you is the real issue.”
Tessa pulled at the edge of her napkin. “He should’ve told me. I asked him about the company name. He lied and said it was about commitment to investors. And I believed him.”
“He should’ve told you then. That isn’t a defense.” Devney squeezed her hand. “But Tessa, the wound is bigger than the Oath.”
“Yes.”
“His mother.”
Tessa exhaled. “His mother.”
Devney waited.
“I don’t think he has ever stood up to her. About anything. Not about anyone.”
“Probably not.”
“I ended it at seventeen, right after his mother told me I’d never be a Sterling. And he didn’t fight me on it—he made it clean and logical, the way he makes everything. The teenage part of me decided that meant she was right, that he’d finally seen what she saw. So I spent eighteen years proving her wrong. Then I found that frame in his drawer, his name signed to a promise never to love someone like me, and it felt like she’d won after all. Eighteen years later.”
Lucy reached across the table and took her other hand.
“I know it sounds dramatic.”
“It doesn’t sound dramatic. It sounds like the truth. He let his mother have him for years. He’s going to have to take himself back if he wants you.”
“That’s exactly the math.”
“Then he can do the math, or he can keep what he had.”
Devney nodded. “And until he does—you don’t have to talk to him.”
“He’s sent forty-seven texts.”
Lucy whistled. “That’s either very romantic or very stalker ish.”
“Somewhere in between.”
“The best relationships usually are.” Lucy paused. “What do they say?”
Tessa scrolled through the messages she hadn’t been able to delete. “Mostly apologies. Some explanations. A lot ofplease talk to me.”
“Has he groveled?”
“Extensively.”
“Good.” Lucy nodded with satisfaction. “What do you want to do?”
“I don’t know.”
“Nothing today,” Devney said. “Today you eat cookies and let us refill your coffee and complain about men who don’t know how to use their words.”
“And tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow you’ll know more than you know today. That’s how it works. You wake up, you assess, you decide. You don’t have to solve everything at once.”
