Chapter 180
Audrey's POV:
Jasper was the first to break the tension.
"We'll find a way, Audrey," he said firmly.
"Remember when we escaped from London? We were certain we wouldn't make it through the night. Yet here we are, years later."
He leaned forward, his eyes intense. "If we survived that, we can survive this too."
I nodded.
But do we? The thought flashed unbidden through my mind.
The joy of finding my child was overwhelming—I desperately wanted to hear him call me "mother" someday.
But if happiness now meant doubled pain later, perhaps it would be kinder not to reach for it at all.
"Life is short," I said softly.
"I've learned that the hard way. But I want Noah's world to be stable when I tell him. I want to be able to promise him I'll always be there."
"Well, regardless of all this serious talk," Emma announced suddenly, "this is something worth celebrating!"
Without warning, she produced a bottle of champagne and began wrestling with the cork.
Jasper and I exchanged looks of resigned amusement.
Emma's head soon dropped to the table, her tolerance for champagne clearly unchanged.
"She never could handle her alcohol," I said fondly.
Taking advantage of Emma's impromptu nap, I turned to Jasper. "Have there been any developments with Caspar's medication? Any progress on the research?"
Jasper's expression turned serious.
"Before I answer that, I need you to answer something for me."
The shift in his tone made me sit up straighter. "What is it?"
"How deep are your feelings for Caspar Thornton?" He asked bluntly.
I was taken aback by the directness of his question. "Why are you asking me this now?"
"Just answer me," he replied cryptically.
I considered my words carefully before meeting his gaze again.
"I don't know how to measure love precisely," I said slowly. "But I know that in my heart right now, his life matters more to me than my own."
Jasper's brow furrowed, a shadow of sadness crossing his face.
"Audrey, you once told me that people like us can't afford emotional attachments," he said quietly.
"Yet here you are, valuing a man's life above your own. Don't you see how dangerous that is?"
I could see the genuine concern in his eyes.
If I had merely been having a fling with Caspar, using him as a distraction from loneliness, Jasper wouldn't have worried. But this level of emotional investment...
I was about to respond when Emma suddenly sat bolt upright, her hand dramatically pressed against her chest.
"In my heart," she declared loudly, her words slightly slurred, "you two are more important to me than my own life!"
Jasper and I both jumped at her sudden outburst.
Just as abruptly, her head drooped forward, and she slumped back onto the table, returning to her alcohol-induced slumber.
I smiled gently at Emma, then turned back to Jasper.
"I know it's dangerous," I said softly. "But it happened anyway."
I had tried to restrain my feelings, fought against them at every turn, but in the end, I couldn't help falling.
"Maybe it was inevitable that Caspar and I would fall in love," I continued.
A small smile played on my lips, "Jasper, if our lives are destined to be short. Isn't it sad to never experience what it feels like to truly love someone? At least now my heart is full."
Jasper studied my face for a long moment, taking in the determination in my eyes.
Finally, his stern expression softened into a gentle smile.
"I'm happy you found this, Audrey," he said, surprising me with his sudden acceptance.
"At least one of us three should have a complete life, a chance at real happiness."
Something about his words struck me as odd, but I pushed the thought aside.
"My happiness will never be complete without you and Emma in it," I replied.
"Whatever comes next, you two are part of my joy. You always will be."
Jasper smiled, a genuine warmth reaching his eyes.
"Caspar's antidote is ready."
I blinked, surprised by this news. "What?"
"The formula I have been working on," Jasper clarified. "It's complete. You can come by the lab to pick it up."
My heart raced at his words.
"Jasper, that's—thank you."
Relief washed through me.
While Caspar's condition wasn't immediately life-threatening, his episodes were terrifying when they happened.
If something happens to me, I thought, Noah will only have Caspar left.
The thought of my son potentially losing both parents was unbearable.
At least with the antidote, I could be confident that Caspar would remain healthy and strong for Noah, no matter what happened to me.
Back in my room after the call ended, I sat at the small desk by the window, making notes in my planner.
I circled next Monday's date. No matter what, I'd need to return to London briefly.
It was time to bring closure to all of this—both Caspar's antidote and the solution to our own condition.
I tapped my pen against the planner, debating my approach.
Should I invent some gallery business as a cover story?
The truth hovered at the edge of my thoughts, tempting me toward honesty.
Wouldn't it be better to simply tell Caspar where I was going and why?
But as quickly as the thought came, reality set in.
If Caspar knew what I was really doing, he would never let me go alone.
No, I couldn't risk it.
I closed the planner with a decisive snap.
Whatever complications tomorrow might bring, tonight I had this perfect, fragile happiness.
---
By the time I heard the front door open and Noah's excited chatter filling the hallway, I was putting the finishing touches on the dining table.
Steam rose from a roast chicken surrounded by rosemary potatoes, a colorful salad sat in a wooden bowl I'd found tucked away in a cabinet, and freshly baked rolls waited in a cloth-lined basket.
"Something smells amazing," Caspar called out, his voice drawing closer.
When they rounded the corner into the dining room, Noah stopped mid-sentence, his eyes widening at the spread.
"Whoa," he breathed. "Did you make all this?"
I smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.
"I thought we deserved something special tonight."
Caspar caught my eye across the room, a question in his gaze.
I simply shrugged, unwilling to explain the sudden domesticity.
How could I tell him I was memorizing moments, storing them up like treasures?
As we settled around the table, passing dishes and filling plates, I found myself watching them both.
Noah launched into a story about something that had happened at school, his hands gesturing animatedly.
Caspar and I exchanged amused glances over his head, united in our appreciation of his enthusiasm.
This, I thought, was what I had missed for all those years—these ordinary, perfect moments.
A family dinner. Shared laughter. The comfortable silence that fell between stories.
"I need to go to London for a few days," I said during a lull in conversation, keeping my voice casual.
"Some gallery business that needs handling in person."
Caspar's fork paused halfway to his mouth, his entire body going still.