Page 99 of Daddy's Ring
Her eyes go sharp. "Declan?—"
"I want to tangle our lives together." I say it directly, no room for misunderstanding. "I want your friends to know me, want my people to know you. Want Maeve to have family beyond just us three."
"Four." She corrects softly. "Stellan's made that pretty clear."
"Four." I agree. "So what do you think?"
She's quiet for a moment, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. "Naomi's with Nilos. Wouldn't that be... complicated?"
"Nilos works for Ares." I shrug. "We're cordial. I'm not going to start shit at a dinner party in my own house."
"But—"
"I really want this, love." I move closer, taking her hand. "I want to show you that I'm serious. That this isn't just us existing in a bubble. That we're building something real."
She studies my face, searching for something. Whatever she finds must satisfy her because she finally nods. "Okay. We can do dinner."
"Yeah?" I can feel my entire face light up, can't help the grin that spreads. "You mean it?"
"Don't make me regret this."
I scoop up Maeve, spinning her gently, and she shrieks with laughter. "We're having a dinner party, sweetheart. Everyone's going to come over and look at how cute you are."
Maeve babbles excitedly, waving her arms, and Zola's watching us with this expression—soft and terrified and hopeful all at once.
"I love you both." I tell them, and Maeve pats my face like she's agreeing.
The next few days,I'm genuinely excited in a way I haven't been about anything in years. I plan the menu carefully—nothing too complicated, but impressive enough to show I put in effort. Stellan mocks me mercilessly when I show him the list, but he also agrees to come and bring Jamie.
"You're like a suburban dad planning a barbecue." He says, reading over my shoulder. "It's disturbing."
"Fuck off." But I don't really care. I want this to be perfect.
Zola helps me coordinate schedules—Naomi and Nilos can make it, plus Naomi's son Jordan. Stellan's bringing Jamie. It'll be intimate, manageable, the kind of gathering where actual conversation can happen.
The night before, I'm in my original house—the one I couldn't let go of, couldn't sell, couldn't change—preparing. I've cleaned obsessively, making sure everything's perfect but not touching the small things that still carry traces of Zola. Her favorite coffee mug in the cabinet. The throw blanket she used to curl up with. The way the books on the shelf are organized because she reorganized them eight years ago and I never changed it back.
When Zola and Maeve arrive early the next evening, Zola freezes in the doorway. I watch her take it in—the familiar kitchen, the living room that hasn't changed, the small details that prove I never really moved on.
"Declan." Her voice is barely above a whisper. "This is…"
"I always loved this house." I take Maeve from her, settling the baby on my hip. "And I never could let you go."
She's looking around like she's seeing a ghost, touching the counter gently. "You didn't change anything."
"Didn't want to." I move closer, free hand finding hers. "Bought other houses over the years. Newer, bigger, supposedly better. But I never let anyone else here. Couldn't stand the thought of someone else touching things that still felt like ours."
"That's not healthy." But she's leaning into me, fingers tight around mine.
"Probably not." I kiss her temple. "But it was true."
Maeve makes a demanding sound and Zola takes her back, holding her close. "I can't believe you kept it exactly the same."
"I kept a lot of things exactly the same." I tell her. "Including how I felt about you."
She doesn't answer, but she doesn't pull away either. Just stands there in the kitchen where I used to cook for her, holding the baby who's become ours, looking around at the life we used to have.
The doorbell rings and I force myself to move, to shift into host mode. Stellan's first, Jamie trailing behind him looking amused. Then Naomi arrives with Nilos and Jordan, and everyone's introducing themselves, and my house is suddenly full of people and noise and life.
