I shake my head. The thought of going there, seeing where he lived with her—even if it wasn't real, even if it was just going through motions—makes my stomach turn.
"Did you live in…" The words come out before I can stop them, even if I can't finish them.
"I'm living there again now. But I didn't with her." Something shifts in his expression. "I moved back three days ago."
The house in Chestnut Hill. Where he cooked for me. Where I learned what it felt like to be taken care of. Where we built something real before I destroyed it.
He's living there again.
I've been so distraught for the last week that I've barely functioned. Naomi's had to physically make me eat. Nilos even got called in to help with the inventory because I couldn't stopcrying long enough to count change. Jordan's played with Maeve for hours while I sat on the floor of the office and tried to remember how to breathe.
All because I thought I'd lost him again. Thought he'd moved on, built a life, chosen someone else.
But there's a part of me that could never let him go. That's been waiting years for him to show up. That recognized him the second he walked through that door weeks ago and thoughtfinally.
"I'm not lying to you." Declan adjusts his hold on Maeve, gentle and sure. "The marriage was a complete sham. I was trying to end it properly—quietly—before I told you because I didn't want you to think I was still entangled with her. But then she showed up here and..."
"And?" I clutch the annulment papers, the edges crumpling under my grip.
"And I can't lose you again." His voice breaks slightly, raw in a way I've never heard from him. "I tried to give you space, tried to do this the right way, but I can't walk away. Not when you're here and there's a chance—even the smallest chance—that you might forgive me."
"Forgive you for what? Getting married after I left?" The bitterness in my voice surprises me. "That's on me. I'm the one who walked away."
"You left for me." He says it like fact, not accusation. "Stellan told me what Nia said. That you thought you were destroying my life, that you left to protect me. And I let you go because you asked me to and I thought—" He stops, breathes carefully. "I thought you didn't want me anymore. That I'd pushed too hard, asked for too much. So I did what you asked and I stayed away."
Maeve shifts slightly in her sleep, makes a small sound of protest when she senses the tension in his body. He immediatelysoftens, hand rubbing small circles on her back until she settles again.
"But I never stopped loving you." The words land like stones in still water, sending ripples through everything. "I spent our entire time apart trying to feel nothing, to just exist, to get through each day. And then I saw you on the street and it all came back. Everything I'd been trying to bury. You were here and alive and I couldn't stay away."
Something in my chest is fracturing. All the careful walls I built, the distance I maintained, the lies I told myself about moving on—it's all crumbling under the weight of him standing here holding Maeve like she's precious, looking at me like I'm the only thing that matters.
"Why didn't you tell me?" My voice is small, broken. "About the marriage. About all of it."
"Because I was terrified." He shifts his weight, that careful stillness he gets when he's trying not to let emotion dictate action. "You'd just started letting me in again. Barely. And I knew if I told you I was married—even if I explained it was fake—you'd shut down. You'd decide you were being selfish by wanting me, that you were destroying someone else's family. You'd run."
He's not wrong. That's exactly what I did when Bianca showed up.
"I was going to tell you." His eyes find mine, hold. "Once the annulment was final and I could prove Bianca was gone. Once I had actual proof that it was done and she meant nothing. I was going to tell you everything."
"When?" I can barely get the word out.
"Soon as I could. Days. A week at most." His hand hasn't stopped that gentle rhythm on Maeve's back. "But she got to you first and I wasn't fast enough."
The papers in my hand feel heavy. Real. Evidence that everything he's saying is true—that his marriage is dissolving, that Bianca's gone, that the baby was never his.
"The baby really isn't yours?" I need to hear it again. Need confirmation.
"Inevertouched her. Not once in eight months." No hesitation. "I couldn't. Every time I looked at her, all I saw was what I'd given up for Uncle Vittorio's dying wish. All I felt was empty."
Maeve's completely limp now, dead weight against his chest. He holds her like it's natural, like he's done this a thousand times instead of just a few weeks' worth of afternoons.
"What do you want from me?" The question comes out tired. I've been so angry, so hurt, so convinced he'd betrayed me. Now all that rage is draining away and leaving exhaustion in its wake.
"Another chance." No hesitation. "To prove I meant everything I said. That you and Maeve—you're what I want. Not status, not some strategic marriage, not the life my uncle planned for me. Just you."
"I told you to leave five days ago."
"I know."
