Chapter 16 Learning to Stay
The week after Damian met the girls passed in a blur of new routines.
He came every day. Not to my office, not to discuss wedding plans that no longer existed. He came to our home, with pastries and patience, and he sat on the living room floor while Lily showed him her toys and Rose asked questions about his boys.
I watched from the kitchen, my heart a tangled mess of hope and fear.
Rosa stood beside me, her arms crossed. “He’s trying.”
“I know.”
“Are you going to let him?”
I watched Damian help Lily build a tower of blocks. Watched him laugh when it collapsed. Watched Rose hand him a piece and tell him he was doing it wrong, and watched him listen.
“I’m trying,” I said.
On Wednesday, Damian brought Leo and Max.
I had not been prepared for the sight of four children in my small living room. Leo ran straight to Lily, holding up a new drawing. Max circled the room twice before stopping in front of Rose.
“You have the same eyes as us,” he announced.
Rose studied him. “I know.”
“Are you our sister?”
Damian stepped forward, but Rose spoke first.
“I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe.”
Max accepted this with a shrug and ran off to find the toy trucks.
Damian looked at me, his expression uncertain. I shrugged. She was handling it better than I ever could.
The afternoon passed in chaos. Lily and Leo claimed the kitchen table for drawings. Max built a fortress in the hallway. Rose sat on the couch with a book, watching the others with quiet amusement.
I retreated to the kitchen to make sandwiches. Damian followed.
“They’re good together,” he said.
“They are.”
He leaned against the counter, close enough that I could feel the warmth of his arm. “Rose told Max she doesn’t know if they’re siblings. I thought you told her I was her father.”
“I did. But she’s five. She’s processing.” I kept my hands busy, spreading mustard, cutting crusts. “She’s known she has a father for a week. Now she has brothers. It’s a lot.”
He was quiet for a moment. “How do I help her?”
I looked at him. His face was open, vulnerable. This was not the cold billionaire who had dismissed me five years ago. This was a man trying to figure out how to be a father to children he had just met.
“You keep showing up,” I said. “You let her come to you. And you don’t push.”
He nodded slowly. “I can do that.”
We stood in the kitchen, the noise of four children filling the space between us. It was strange and terrifying and, against all odds, wonderful.
“Ava.” His voice was soft. “I want to be in their lives. All of them. Rose, Lily, you. I know I have no right to ask after everything—”
“You’re not asking,” I interrupted. “You’re being their father. That’s different.”
He held my gaze. “What about us?”
The question hung in the air. I did not have an answer. Not one I was ready to give.
“Let’s focus on the children,” I said. “The rest can wait.”
He nodded, accepting. But I saw the hope in his eyes, and it terrified me.
On Friday, Rosa took the girls to the park. Damian came alone.
We sat on the porch, the evening air cool around us. He had not shaved in two days. There were circles under his eyes. He looked human in a way he never had before.
“Isabelle moved out yesterday,” he said.
I nodded. I had heard through the grapevine that the wedding was officially canceled. The news had spread quickly. I had fielded calls from vendors all week.
“How are the boys handling it?”
“They don’t really understand. They knew she was supposed to be their stepmother. But they didn’t love her. Not the way they already love your girls.”
My chest tightened. “It’s only been a week.”
“I know.” He looked at me. “Leo asked if Lily could come live with us. Max asked if Rose could be their sister forever.”
“What did you tell them?”
“I told them we’re figuring it out.” He leaned back in his chair. “Because we are. Aren’t we?”
I did not answer. The silence stretched, filled with the sounds of the neighborhood, the distant laughter of children, the low hum of traffic.
“I spoke to my lawyer,” he said quietly.
My heart stopped. “About what?”
“Custody.”
I stood so fast the chair scraped against the porch. “Damian—”
“Wait.” He stood too, his hands up. “I’m not trying to take them from you. I would never. I just want to know what my rights are. What I can offer. What can I do to be in their lives legally, officially?”
I was shaking. “I don’t want lawyers. I don’t want courts. I spent five years terrified you would take them, and now—”
“Ava.” He stepped closer, his voice gentle. “I am not going to take your daughters. Our daughters. I want to share them. I want to be their father. But I need to know what that looks like. What you’re comfortable with.”
I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to stop the trembling. “I don’t know what I’m comfortable with. I don’t know anything. I’ve spent five years building a life without you, and now you’re here, and the girls love you, and I don’t know how to fit you into the world I built.”
“Then let’s build a new one.”
His words stopped me cold.
“Not a world where you disappear,” he said. “A world where we figure it out together. Where the girls have both of us. Where we make decisions together. Where you don’t have to be scared anymore.”
I stared at him. “You make it sound so simple.”
“It’s not simple. It’s going to be hard. But I’m not going anywhere. I missed five years. I’m not missing any more.”
I wanted to believe him. I wanted to let the hope in. But the fear was older, stronger, a scar that had calcified over five years.
“I need time,” I said.
He nodded slowly. “I’ll give you time. But I’m not leaving. I’ll be here tomorrow. And the day after. And every day until you’re ready to let me in.”
He left without waiting for an answer.
I sat on the porch until the sun went down, his words echoing in my head. I’m not going anywhere.
For the first time in five years, I let myself believe it might be true.