Page 93 of Daddy's Ring
She grins at him, syrup already on her cheeks, and babbles something that might be an attempt at his name.
I freeze with my fork halfway to my mouth. He tells her he loves her now, the same way he tells me. Casually, constantly, like it's just a fact of existence. The sky is blue, water is wet, Declan loves Maeve.
"What?" He notices me staring.
"Nothing." I force myself to take another bite, but the pancakes suddenly feel too thick in my throat. "It's just... you're really good with her."
"She makes it easy." He reaches over, wiping syrup off Maeve's chin with his thumb. "She's a good kid. Sweet. Curious. Reminds me of someone."
"Nia." The name still hurts, still feels like a wound that hasn't fully closed.
"You." He corrects gently. "She reminds me of you."
I don't know what to do with that, so I focus on eating. On getting food into my body even though my stomach's doing gymnastics. On being present in this moment instead of spiraling about what it all means.
Stellan arrives exactly when he said he would, carrying a bag from the bakery down the street. "I brought muffins."
"We just finished pancakes." I gesture at the table, where Maeve is systematically destroying what's left of her breakfast.
"And? There's always room for muffins." He dumps the bag on the counter, then heads straight for Maeve. "Morning, kid. You're a disaster."
She reaches for him, making her demanding sound, and he picks her up without hesitation. A month ago, he was terrified of her. Now he handles her like it's second nature, unbothered by the syrup that immediately transfers to his expensive shirt.
"You're going to ruin that." I point at the spreading stain.
"It's a shirt." He settles Maeve on his hip, grabbing a muffin with his free hand. "I have others."
Declan's watching us with this satisfied expression, like seeing his brother with my daughter is somehow exactly what he wanted. Maybe it is. Maybe he's been slowly weaving us into his life, making sure we fit, making sure this becomes permanent before I can pull away.
It's working. God help me, it's working.
Tuesday afternoon,I'm trying to organize the romance section—which desperately needs updating, since Nia was the one who usually curated it and I haven't had the heart to touch it until now—when Declan shows up with lunch.
"You didn't have to." But I'm already reaching for the bag, stomach growling at the smell of Thai food.
"Needed an excuse to see you." He leans down, kissing me slow and thorough enough that heat floods through me. "Missed you."
"You saw me three hours ago." I'm breathless when he pulls back.
"Still missed you." He takes Maeve from where she's been playing with board books, tossing her gently in the air until she shrieks with laughter. "Missed you too, sweetheart."
We eat on the floor of the children's section, Maeve between us attempting to steal noodles from both our containers. Declan tells me about a supplier meeting that went well, asks about my plans for reorganizing the store, listens like my thoughts on shelf placement actually matter.
"I was thinking about expanding the children's section." I gesture toward the corner that's currently storage. "Clear that out, put in some bean bags, make it more welcoming for kids and parents."
"Good idea." He's not just agreeing to agree—I can see him actually considering it. "You'd need better lighting. Maybe some murals on the wall."
"I can't exactly afford a mural right now."
"I know someone who owes me a favor. Does good work." He says it casually, like he's not trying to solve my problems, just offering information.
Eight years ago, I would have bristled at that. Would have seen it as him trying to control things, trying to fix me. Now I recognize it for what it is: someone who loves me trying to help make my dreams happen.
"That would be nice." My voice comes out softer than I intended. "Thank you."
"Always." He kisses my temple, then Maeve's head. "I love you both."
There it is again. That casual declaration that feels anything but casual.
