I was heading to my office when, from down the hall, a faint creak made me still. Instinct snapped into place, every sense alert. Then dim lights in our family room caught my eye. Thinking it had to be Salvatore, and counting on him to lend a listening ear, I headed toward it but came up short at the doorway.
It wasn’t Salvatore.
It was Violet. She stood barefoot, wearing light purple loungewear, one hand resting against the wall like she needed something to support her seeing photos ofourchild. Photos that told of memories she wasn’t here for. Her other hand was wrapped around herself while she studied the photographs on the wall and bookshelves.
And all the while, I stood at the edge of the room, remembering the night she’d handed me our child. It replayed in my head, mocking me. Telling me how badly I’d fucked up.
She had come into my life right after burying her sister. She was alone. Breaking and bleeding. And I did nothing but add to her pain, too absorbed in my own.
And I had taken what she gave me back then without asking what it had cost her to offer it.
My jaw tightened.
“Hey there,” I said. She whirled around, her posture stiff.
She was back to building those walls again. Not that I could blame her.
“You should be asleep,” I said softly. “Jet lag must be catching up to you.”
A faint huff left her. “I can handle jet lag. You, on the other hand, are giving me whiplash.”
My mouth almost twitched.
I stepped in slowly, approaching her like I would an injured animal, scared to spook her. Once I was two feet away from her, I stopped and let the silence stretch between us, thick and full of unspoken words from the past ten years.
“You should have told me,” I murmured.
That made her look at me.
“Why?” she asked. “We were just two strangers, looking to forget our pain for one night.”
My eyes darkened.
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Don’t twist what we had into something meaningless.” She held my gaze, and a beat passed while I watched a range of emotions flicker in her eyes. I decided to stop playing it safe with her and go all in, to hell with it all. “We both know it wasn’t, Violet.”
She dragged a hand through her dark blonde strands, much like our daughter often did. Except Aria’s motions were carefree, whereas Violet’s were measured.
“That was years ago, Lykos. It was a mistake on both our parts.”
That landed harder than I expected, leaving a bitter taste on my tongue.
“I don’t regret it,” I rasped. “It gave me…” I faltered, then corrected myself. “It gave us Aria.”
Her breath caught.
“I thought you hated me and?—”
“I don’t,” I cut in. “I was hurt. First, you rejected me—although you had a point, and then you showed up at my doorstep with a newborn and told me you didn’t want her because she’s mine.”
I watched her delicate throat bob as she swallowed. “I was too… young to have her.”
She didn’t trust me to tell me the truth, but it didn’t matter. I would wait until she was comfortable, and I’d be here for her this time. At whatever cost.
“She was a good baby,” I said quietly, my gaze flicking to the photo next to her. It was Aria’s first birthday and she had the most adorable grin on her face. “A happy baby.”
