Page 79 of Daddy's Ring
I break off a piece of croissant, focusing very hard on the flaky layers. "He came by."
"And?"
"And we ate dinner. He took care of Maeve. We talked." I pause. "And then he... apologized. Properly."
Naomi's eyebrows climb toward her hairline. "Properly?"
"With his mouth." The words come out strangled. "And then he left."
"Wait." She leans forward. "He went down on you and then just... left?"
"Said we were starting slow." I shove pastry in my mouth to avoid elaborating.
Naomi stares at me for a long moment, then starts laughing. Not mean laughter—warm and genuine, the kind that makes her eyes crinkle at the corners. "Oh my god. He's courting you."
"He's not—" But she's right. That's exactly what he's doing. Showing up, taking care of things, making sure I know he's serious without pushing for more than I can give. "This is a bad idea."
"Why?" She picks up her coffee again. "Because you might actually be happy?"
"Because I already tried this once and it didn't work." I watch Maeve shake her elephant, delighted by the rattling sound. "What if I'm making the same mistake? What if I'm still not what he needs and it all falls apart again and this time Maeve gets hurt?"
"Or what if it works out?" Naomi's voice is gentle. "What if he's exactly whatyouneed and you're exactly whatheneeds and you get to be happy together? Because it sounds like you both regret the breakup last time."
I want to believe that. Want it so badly it physically hurts. But years of running has made me very good at protecting myself, and I'm not sure I remember how to stop.
"I don't know if I can do this." The admission comes out quiet. "Let him in. Trust that he's not going to leave or change his mind or realize I'm not worth it."
"Zola." Naomi sets down her coffee, reaches over to take my hand. "I've known you for over a year now. Watched you take care of Nia, raise Maeve, keep the bookstore running. You're one of the strongest people I know. But sometimes strength means letting yourself be vulnerable with someone who's earned it."
"And you think Declan's earned it?"
"I think you said been miserable for eight years without him." She squeezes my hand. "I think he shows up every day and takes care of you both. I think it took him one look to realize he can't live without you. And I think if you don't give this an actual chance, you're going to regret it."
Maeve crawls over, pulls herself up using my leg, babbling something that might be words or might just be sounds. I lift her into my lap and she immediately reaches for Naomi's necklace.
"I'm scared." The words feel too honest, too raw. "That I'll fall and he'll catch me but then drop me anyway. That he'll realize I can't give him what he needs. That his life will hurt us and it'll be my fault for letting him in."
"Those are all valid fears." Naomi gently redirects Maeve's grabbing hands. "But you can't live your whole life protecting yourself from getting hurt. Sometimes you just have to take the risk."
"What if it doesn't work?"
"Then you'll handle it. Same way you've handled everything else." She meets my eyes. "But what if it does?"
Declan showsup at nine the next morning with bagels, cream cheese, and that careful expression that says he's not sure what kind of reception he's going to get.
"Morning." He holds up the bag like a peace offering. "Everything bagel with vegetable cream cheese. Coffee the way you like."
I should probably play it cool. Should make him work for it, protect myself better. Instead I open the door wider and let him in because I'm apparently terrible at self-preservation where he's concerned.
Maeve sees him and immediately starts bouncing in her playpen, arms up, demanding to be held. He grins and scoops her up before even setting down the food.
"Hey, babygirl. Did you miss me?" He kisses her forehead, settles her on his hip like it's the most natural thing in the world. "Were you good for your mama?"
She grabs his face with both hands, babbling something emphatic. He laughs—actual laughter that lights up his whole face—and my chest does something complicated.
"I'll take that as a yes." He carries her to the kitchen, somehow managing to unpack the food one-handed while keeping her entertained. "Zola, you need to eat. When's the last time you had breakfast?"
"Yesterday." Probably. I think. Time's been weird lately.
