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I shake my head. “No, he’s my next visit.”
She looks away, hurt flashing across her face. “So you’re visiting him but dragging me all the way here?”
“He is a few doors down,” I clarify. “I need you here because there are some legal issues I want to discuss. I want my name on the children’s birth certificates.”
Seraphina stiffens, eyes widening as she processes my words.
“I want to recognize them legally. This isn’t about taking them away, just being involved,” I reiterate. “Visitation at first, then shared custody eventually.”
“You live . . . where do you live now?” she asks hesitantly.
“I lived with Bartók in Seattle while I was going to therapy. Now I’m couch surfing between Ellington’s and Sibelius’s places.”
Sephie scrunches her nose.
“It’s temporary,” I offer. “I’m looking to buy a place near you, so it’ll be comfortable for the kids. I want your input too, so it feels like home for them.”
“You’ll move there?” The skepticism in her voice makes me second-guess my plan for a moment.
“I would do anything for them,” I reassure her. “This will be a slow transition, I promise. I’m not swooping in to disrupt their lives.”
“O-okay,” she stammers, looking overwhelmed.
“And I hope in time, you’ll give me a chance to regain your friendship too,” I venture carefully.
“Friends, of course.”
She just nods, clearly struggling internally. I gently grasp her hands, ducking to meet her averted eyes. “Tell me honestly—what do you need from me? I don’t want to hurt you, Sephie.”
Her voice wavers with emotion. “You just flipped over everything I thought was real. So many lies . . .” She looks at me with those wounded eyes that rip my heart out. “You lied to me.”
I run a hand through my hair, tension knotting in my shoulders. “I know,” I admit, my voice catching with regret. “I made mistakes, Sephie. Huge ones. But not everything was a lie. My feelings for you . . . they were always real.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Seraphina
“My mother hated me because she thought I was fooling around with my sister’s fiancé,” I say accusingly.
Brahms sighs heavily. “Is that all you took from what I just told you?”
I shake my head angrily. “No, but I missed her last days because of that. My father . . .” I start pacing agitatedly. “I thought he just started drinking after my mom died. But once I told them I was pregnant, my mother never spoke to me again. Dad hated the twins.”
Tears spring to my eyes. “He was so cruel to them.”
Brahms grasps my shoulders gently. “Hey. Our kids are amazing. None of what happened is their fault.”
“Oh, I know that.” I shove away from him. “But you lied to me. Worst of all, you made me hate you.”
Brahms looks at me regretfully.
“I fucking needed you, Brahms,” I shout, beyond frustrated. “Fifi didn’t need lies or protection. Actually, my name is fucking Seraphina St. Clairmont, and I needed to be treated as an adult then—and now.”
Brahms’s face falls. “You’re right. I should’ve trusted you and treated you as an adult. I’ll always regret that mistake.” His voice breaks. “I lost the woman I love, missed years with our kids . . . almost lost myself forever, and now I don’t know how to fix us.”
My anger melts away. “I wish?—”
“No, don’t think about the past or what can’t be fixed. We have to focus on the future, on being friends for the good of our children.”
