Hundred and Sixty Nine

Hundred and Sixty Nine
If there was one thing I wasn’t prepared for after moving into Declan’s world, it was the sinking realisation that I would probably never fit into it.

For starters, he had this posh apartment in this posh neighborhood, and all his neighbors were so…rich.

Back in my old apartment, neighbors meant Mr. Wilkins who would thump his boots against the ceiling when Noah bounced his ball too hard, or the college kid down the hall who borrowed sugar but never returned the container. People kept to themselves, and that suited me just fine.

But in Declan’s neighborhood, the neighbors were tech bros and their girlfriends with glossy hair and young people from old money, and women who arrived at your doorstep carrying homemade sourdough and invitations to backyard gatherings.

The invite came two days after we moved in. A man in a polo shirt and a woman in a linen dress stopped by with their golden retriever and said cheerfully, “We’re having a little get-together
on Saturday. You should come! Bring Noah!”

I smiled, accepted the slip of paper with their address, and closed the door. Then promptly turned to Declan and said, “Absolutely not.”

He leaned against the doorframe, smirking. “We should go, absolutely yes.”

“Declan,” I groaned, “your neighbors are probably used to wine tastings in Tuscany and ski trips to Switzerland. The last trip I took was to your lake house. I’m not going.”

He came closer, his hand brushing mine in that quiet way he had of grounding me. “It’s not Tuscany. It’s burgers in a backyard. And you’re not going as anyone but yourself. My girlfriend.” He paused, “My wife, if you will.”

I rolled my eyes. 

Saturday came faster than I expected.

I spent an embarrassing amount of time staring at my closet. Every dress suddenly looked either too plain or like I was trying too hard. Finally, I settled on a simple sundress. When I came downstairs, Declan was waiting in jeans and a button-down, sleeves rolled to his elbows. He gave me one of those slow, appreciative looks that made my skin flush.

“You look perfect,” he said simply, like it was fact. Then lower, “I’m going to bend you over in this, tonight.”

Noah bounded down the stairs behind me, already buzzing with energy. “Do you think they’ll have ice cream? Or a trampoline? Or maybe a pet turtle?”

Declan ruffled his hair. “Probably not a turtle, kiddo.”

Noah shrugged. “You never know.”

The gathering was exactly what Declan promised: a cluster of families in a sprawling backyard, kids shrieking as they ran across the grass, adults lounging with drinks in hand. A table
groaned under the weight of burgers, salads, and enough chips to feed an army.

It looked really normal.

And still, my stomach knotted as we walked in. I could feel eyes on us. The curious, assessing gaze. I knew what they’d seen in the papers. Declan Ashwell’s shameful secret. The hidden child. The woman from nowhere.

My hand twitched at my side. Declan caught it, lacing his fingers through mine without hesitation.

“Relax,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”

I tried to smile, but all I could muster was a straight line.

Almost immediately, a woman around my age approached. She wore jeans and a breezy blouse, her hair in a messy bun, and she carried two sodas. “You must be Willow,” she said
warmly, holding one out to me.

I blinked, taking it. “Uh, yes. Hi.”

“I’m Cara. We live two houses down. Don’t worry, everyone is on your side.” She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “Honestly? Most of us can’t stand Emma. The things she’s pulling with custody? Horrible.”

Something in me loosened. For the first time all evening, I smiled without forcing it. “Thank you. Really.”

She grinned. “Besides, anyone who can survive moving with kids deserves a medal.”

Declan chuckled beside me. He kissed the top of my head lightly. “She deserves more than that.”

Cara’s gaze flicked between us, and I saw curiosity, yes, but also kindness. It helped.

Meanwhile, Noah had already disappeared into the swarm of kids. Every few minutes he came back, face flushed and hair sticking to his forehead, to announce some new discovery.

“They have popsicles!” he shouted, mouth already stained red. “I had three!”

“Three?” I said sharply.

Declan just smirked. “Let him live a little.”

Noah giggled, then darted off again, leaving sticky handprints on Declan’s shirt.

Declan didn’t even flinch. Just glanced down at the stain, then at me. “Our son is a gremlin.”

The words hit me square in the chest. Our son. He’d said it so casually, like it was the most natural truth in the world.

God, this would take getting used to.

As the evening wore on, I noticed the way people looked at us. 

A man introduced Declan as ‘the guy with the perfect lawn.’ A woman asked me how long we’d been together. Declan didn’t hesitate:

“Long enough,” he said, sliding an arm around my waist. “This is Willow. My fiance.”

Every time he said it, I felt a strange warmth bloom inside me. His fiance. He hadn’t proposed, yet. But of course he would. We both knew it was a matter of when, not if.

We ended up sitting on a picnic blanket, watching Noah chase fireflies with a bunch of kids. His laughter carried across the grass. Declan’s arm rested behind me, his thumb brushing absentminded circles against my back.

“You’re quiet,” he said softly.

I stared out at Noah. “Just… realizing something.”

“What’s that?”

I swallowed, the words catching in my throat. “We look like a family.”

Declan’s chuckled. “That’s because we are.”

The truth of it shook me a little. People could see it clearly, the bond between us, the way Noah fit into his arms like he’d always belonged there, the way Declan looked at me like I was all of his world more. Fuck, he was introducing me as his fiance.

And while that realization warmed me to my core, it also terrified me. Because if we lost this, if Emma won this battle, if the press tore us apart, if my fear got the better of me, it would shatter me in ways I wasn’t sure I could survive.

I leaned into Declan anyway, letting the weight of his arm steady me. For now, I would let myself believe in it.

Noah came back sticky with popsicle juice, hair damp with sweat, and plopped into Declan’s lap. “This is the best night ever,” he declared.

Declan kissed the top of his head, then met my eyes over Noah’s messy hair.