LOGIN"By the end of that first week, I told them I intended to accept," Damien said, "if the practical terms could be made to work." He said it slowly, like a man setting something heavy down on a table between us. "Nothing's signed. It's conditional. But I gave them that answer.""And since then?""They've started preparing around it. Talking through how the work would be organized, who would report to me, what the first few months would look like." He winced faintly. "Not as if it's settled. As if it's likely."I understood the difference at once, and it sat badly in my chest. Exploring something was a man standing at a door. This was other people quietly arranging furniture on the other side of it, because he had told them he'd probably walk through.My fingers loosened around his without my deciding to. He noticed, and I watched him not tighten his grip, not pull me closer, not lean in to kiss the moment into something softer. He just let my hand stay where it was, resting against his,
"Two weeks," Damien said.I sat there with the sheet pulled up around me, the bed still warm from where we'd been tangled together, and let the number settle. Two weeks was not a lot of time, but it was exactly long enough to hold the cancelled restaurant, the sketchbook evening and the reception. He had known the whole time he was standing beside me under those lights, being admired for how well we managed."Two weeks," I repeated."They approached me first, and I said I'd consider it." He rubbed the back of his neck, something rueful and careful in the motion. "By the end of that week I'd agreed in principle."I thought of the sketchbook he'd handed me on the night I cancelled, how touched I'd been by the gift without knowing what he'd swallowed beneath it. Later he had told me the sentence he'd almost said, and he had still kept this one back. I did not think any of those moments had been false. I only wondered where he'd put it, all those days, while he handed me everything else.
He pulled me through the hallway, our fingers still laced, and I bumped into the doorframe laughing while trying to kiss him at the same time, which he found entirely too funny for a man who'd supposedly been devastated an hour earlier."You're hopeless," he said, catching my waist to steady me."You're the one who walks backward through doorways while kissing someone.""That seems like a skill, not a flaw.""It's a hazard," I said, and he kissed me again anyway, slower this time, both of us finally unhurried in a way we hadn't managed in days.We settled into bed tangled together, his arm heavy across my waist, and I fell asleep faster than I had all weekend, the particular exhaustion of relief rather than tension pulling me under. Tuesday morning arrived with sun through the curtains and Damien already half awake beside me, his hand finding mine before either of us had said a word."I have an idea," he said, voice still rough with sleep. "Tonight. No rescue mission, no apology dinne
"I want ordinary evenings," Damien said, finally, like the sentence had been sitting ready and heavy for weeks. "Nothing to celebrate, nothing to arrange. Just you, home, with nothing either of us is proving.""We have ordinary evenings.""We have fewer than I want, and I've been bad at saying so." He pressed his palms flat against the table, gathering himself. "I want to finish saying this before we're both too tired to listen. I wish you were home. Not qualified. Not followed by *but ignore me, go do what you need to do.* Just that, sitting there plainly.""You could have just said that.""I know. I'm saying it now." He glanced up, something exposed in his expression. "Saying go has always felt safer than risking what happens after I want you here."I started to answer, some reflex rising to reassure him immediately, and caught myself before the words fully formed, letting him keep going instead."I've kept work I didn't need to keep too," he continued. "Missed chances to leave earl
I sat with the empty place across from me longer than I should have, telling myself it was fine, that he'd come when he came, that I shouldn't make my own choice into something he had to hurry toward. Except I kept checking the clock anyway, kept listening for the door, the particular dishonesty of it settling uncomfortably in my chest. I was doing it again, hiding what I actually wanted behind the appearance of asking for nothing at all.I picked up my phone before I'd fully decided to and called him."Hi," he said, something slightly surprised in his voice. "Everything alright?""Everything's fine. When are you coming home?""I still have the quarterly summary and two emails that probably can't wait until—""Damien." I cut him off gently, feeling my nerve waver but pushing through it anyway. "I came home because I wanted to be with you. I'm hoping you'll come home too."The line went quiet for a second. "You've been sitting there waiting for me?""Yes.""Tonight. Because you actuall
I lifted my hand off the file, the motion smaller and less decisive than I expected it to feel, just fingers unclenching from a folder that had never once needed holding. I sent the message to Damien, I'm coming home, before I could second-guess it, and closed my laptop properly for the first time in weeks without anything left running in a tab somewhere behind it.Grace stopped by my office as I was gathering my things. "We're still finishing the follow-up calls for tomorrow's appointments. Nothing complicated, just confirming times with two families.""Who's handling it?""The coordinator. She's already drafted the calls." Grace glanced at me, something testing in her expression. "You don't need to be looped in unless something actually changes with a support plan.""Then I won't be," I said, and watched something ease slightly in Grace's shoulders too, like she'd expected me to ask for an update anyway and was relieved when I didn't.Claire appeared a minute later with the handover







