Page 90 of Daddy's Ring
We're quiet for a while, just eating our ice cream and watching the water move past. Zola finishes hers first, wiping her hands on a napkin before leaning back against the bench.
"I had a great time tonight." She turns to look at me. "Really great. Thank you for this."
"This is all I ever wanted." The words come easier than I expected. "You smiling, laughing at my terrible jokes, eating good food without worrying about anything else. Just you happy and here with me."
"I am happy." She reaches for my hand, threads our fingers together. "Happier than I've been in a long time. Probably since before I left."
"Then let me keep making you happy." I squeeze her hand. "However long it takes, whatever you need. I'm not going anywhere."
"I know." She's looking at me now with something warm and vulnerable in her eyes. "I think I'm finally starting to really believe that."
"Good." I want to kiss her—have wanted to kiss her since I picked her up tonight—but I'm waiting. Waiting for her to choose, to close the distance, to show me she wants this as much as I do. "I want you to know how much I love you."
I don't expect her to say it back. I understand she needs time. Instead, she does the one thing I was hoping for, leaning in and pressing her lips against mine.
It's careful at first—tentative, like she's testing to see if this is real. Then I'm pulling her closer, one hand sliding into her hair while the other wraps around her waist. She tastes like honey lavender and blackberry, sweet and perfect and entirely her.
The kiss deepens and it's like coming home after eight years of wandering lost. Her hands fist in my shirt, pulling me closer like she can't get enough. I pour everything into it—every year I spent missing her, every night I lay awake thinking about her, every moment I've been back in her life wanting exactly this.
24
ZOLA
His mouth on mine feels like an impossibility made real. Eight years I spent convincing myself this would never happen again, that I'd destroyed something irreplaceable, and here he is—solid and warm andhere, kissing me like I'm the only thing that matters in the entire world.
My heart's hammering so hard I can feel it in my throat. Everything's too much—losing Nia, raising Maeve alone, the shock of Declan walking back into my life, the confusion and hurt over his wife. I'm still raw from all of it, still bleeding from wounds I thought had scarred over years ago.
But Maeve adores him. She lights up when he walks in, reaches for him like she knows on some fundamental level that he's safe. And Stellan's suddenly around too, this unexpected presence who looks at my daughter like she's family already.
I can't keep pushing him out. Can't keep pretending that having him back in my life isn't exactly what I've wanted since the moment I left Philadelphia.
So I don't. I pull him closer instead, kissing him deeper, my hands fisting in his shirt hard enough that I'm probably wrinkling the fabric beyond repair. He makes this sound—lowand rough and desperate—and heat floods through me, pooling low in my belly.
"Declan." I break the kiss just long enough to get the words out. "I need you. God, I need you so badly."
"Zola—" He's breathing hard, forehead pressed against mine. "We should probably?—"
"No." I cut him off, shifting so I'm straddling his lap. The bench is narrow and uncomfortable but I don't care. "I don't want to think. Don't want to be careful or smart or any of the things I've been trying to be. I just want you."
He groans when I grind against him, and I can feel how much he wants this too—hard and insistent through his jeans. "Love?—"
"I missed you." The words tumble out before I can stop them. "Every single day for eight years, I missed you. Missed this. Missed us."
"I know." His hands slide up my thighs, pushing the fabric of my dress higher. "Believe me, I know."
I reach between us, fingers fumbling with his belt. The metal's cool under my hands and I'm shaking slightly—nerves or anticipation or just the overwhelming reality offinallytouching him again after so long. He helps me, undoing the buckle and button while I shove the fabric aside.
This is reckless. We're in a public park, even if it is secluded, even if it is late. Anyone could walk by. But I've spent my whole life being careful, protecting myself, making the smart choice. Just this once, I want to be selfish. Want to take what I need without thinking about consequences.
Declan's eyes are dark when I lift myself up, positioning myself over him. "You're sure?"
"So sure." I sink down slowly, taking him in, and the stretch and fullness is so intense I have to pause halfway, breathing through the adjustment. It's beenyears—not since him, notsince before I left. My body needs time to remember this, to accommodate him.
He's perfectly still beneath me, every muscle tensed like he's holding himself back with sheer force of will. His hands grip my hips hard enough to bruise and I can see the strain in his jaw, the way he's clenching his teeth.
I roll my hips experimentally, taking him deeper, and he makes a sound like he's dying.
"Christ." The word comes out strangled. "It's been far too long. I'm barely holding on here."
