The crack across the bookstore window felt like it had split through my chest too.
I stood frozen, staring at the jagged glass, the reflection of my pale face staring back at me. Dominic’s shadow loomed beside mine, steady and immovable. I hated how safe that made me feel. He moved me from the broken pieces, far away from the danger. “It was probably nothing,” I said, my voice clipped, trying to convince both him and myself. “Some kids playing, probably a rock—who knows.” “No,” he said firmly, crouching near the frame to inspect the damage. “This wasn’t careless. It was deliberate.” The certainty in his tone scraped against my nerves. “You don’t know that.” He rose to his full height, looking at me like he saw straight through my denial. “You’re scared. And I don’t blame you. But pretending otherwise doesn’t protect you—or her.” My throaThe flight home felt shorter than the one that had brought us to London. Maybe it was because Eliana slept most of the way, her little lion clutched tight to her chest, her cheek pressed against my arm. Or maybe it was because the air between Dominic and me had shifted—subtle, dangerous, undeniable. The kiss from last night still lingered on my lips. I could feel it like a brand, like a secret too powerful to speak aloud. Neither of us mentioned it on the plane. We sat close, shoulders brushing every so often, but we kept our words light for Eliana’s sake. She was full of chatter about double-decker buses and her “London room,” blissfully unaware of how carefully we avoided meeting each other’s eyes for too long. When the plane touched down, reality came rushing back. Home wasn’t London. Home was responsibility, unfinished battles, and Dominic’s father—the shadow that still loomed over everything. By the time we reached the house, Eliana was awake again, practically skipping ahead
The glass felt heavy in my hand, though I hadn’t touched more than a sip. Scotch wasn’t what I wanted tonight—it was just something to hold, something to busy my fingers while my head spun in too many directions.Eliana’s voice still echoed in my mind.Best day ever.It had been—at least for her. Watching her laugh, bounce, tug at Lena’s hand, point out everything new and shiny in this city… it had been more than I’d expected. More than I deserved.And Lena—God, Lena. She’d smiled today. Really smiled. Not just the polite, weary curve of her lips she wore like armour, but one that had reached her eyes. I’d caught it more than once, and each time, it had undone me a little more.The phone on the table buzzed, lighting up with my London office number. I stared at it, jaw tight. I should’ve answered. Work was the reason I’d dragged them across the ocean. Deals were waiting, numbers shifting by the second, people expecting me to be sharp, ruthless, present.But I let it ring out.Because
When we returned from the river, the late afternoon light had already shifted into that golden wash that made the townhouse glow. Eliana darted ahead the moment the door opened, kicking off her shoes and announcing—loudly—that Leo was “exhausted from all the walking.”I let her run upstairs with her lion clutched tight, then set my coat neatly on the hook. My body ached from the hours of walking, but it wasn’t just fatigue pulling at me—it was the lingering weight of what happened at the river. The way Dominic had walked beside me was steady and close. The way he’d looked at me like he still had a claim.And the way I hadn’t stopped him.I poured myself a glass of water, staring out the window. The city noises drifted in faintly—a car horn—but in here, it was quiet. Too quiet.“Long day?”I turned. Dominic was leaning against the doorway, jacket off, sleeves rolled, the collar of his shirt loosened just enough to make him look… softer. Less like the sharp, untouchable man I’d spent ye
The South Bank was alive, the Thames glinting silver under a pale sun as we strolled along the riverwalk. Street performers strummed guitars, bubbles floated in the air, and the scent of roasted chestnuts carried on the breeze. Eliana skipped ahead, Leo dangling from her arm, her laughter mingling with the crowd’s hum. She tugged at my sleeve every few steps—pointing at a magician with bright scarves, at a busker painted head to toe in gold, at the Ferris wheel turning slowly against the skyline. “Uncle Dom, can we go on it? Please? It’s taller than a house—no, taller than ten houses!” I smiled despite myself. “It’s called the London Eye. Maybe later, if your mom says yes.” She turned her pleading eyes toward Lena, who walked just behind us, her scarf wrapped tight against the wind. Lena only shook her head with a faint smile, but her gaze flicked to me, quick and guarded. There was something in her eyes she wouldn’t say aloud—something that had lingered in the space between us si
The silence stretched. He hadn’t looked away, not really, even after he’d said nothing. His eyes were too steady, his shoulders too rigid for it to be nothing. I felt the pull of it—the almost-conversation, the almost-confession—but my chest tightened, and I busied myself with wiping crumbs from the counter. “Pancakes are getting cold,” I said finally, my voice softer than I meant it to be. Dominic gave a faint nod, like he’d accepted his own retreat, and sat down opposite me. For a moment we were just two adults at a table, eating imperfect pancakes in silence. But every time our hands brushed reaching for the syrup or the fruit bowl, I felt the static crackle between us. By the time Eliana bounced back in, dragging Leo by his worn paw, the kitchen felt lighter. She filled the air with chatter about her room, about how Leo had “approved” the star-patterned blankets, and how she was “ready for more London adventures.” Dominic smiled at her, then at me. “We’ll keep it simple
I woke to the faint sound of clattering downstairs, sunlight spilling pale and hesitant through the curtains. For a few seconds, I forgot where I was—this wasn’t my small apartment back home, or the quiet refuge I’d built for Eliana and me. It was London—Dominic’s house. The smell hit next. Toast. Coffee. Something warm and sweet I couldn’t quite name. My chest tightened. For years, mornings had meant rushing Eliana through breakfast, pulling myself together with little more than tea, and trying to block out memories of the man who’d once made my mornings softer. Now here I was, in his world again, and he was downstairs… cooking? “Mommy,” a sleepy voice mumbled beside me. Eliana sat up, her curls wild, Leo clutched to her chest. “I heard plates. Is Uncle Dom making pancakes?” I blinked at her. “You think so?” She nodded solemnly, eyes wide with certainty. “He wants us to stay.” The words hit like a pebble to the heart. I smoothed her curls and kissed her temple. “Let’s go find o