Chapter 5 - CHRISTMAS, ONE YEAR LATER
James took his first steps eleven months after Declan burst through my front door expecting another man.
Of course he did it on Christmas Eve.
Some families inherit jewelry.
Apparently ours inherited dramatic timing.
My house on Maple Street looked almost exactly as it had the previous year: snow against the windows, warm lights across the tree, too many people squeezed around furniture designed for half their number.
The difference was that this year Declan had been invited.
He arrived carrying one reasonable-sized gift for James and a bottle of wine for dinner.
I inspected the gift.
“No vehicle?”
“Wooden blocks.”
“No incorporated company?”
“Not unless he develops a compelling business plan.”
“Good.”
Declan smiled.
His relationship with Thomas had become unexpectedly civil. Daniel still enjoyed making him uncomfortable. Eleanor had somehow become friends with my sister despite both women claiming they disliked each other.
Life had become strange.
Not perfect.
Strange was better.
James stood beside the couch gripping the cushion with both hands while Declan sat several feet away on the floor.
“Come on, buddy.”
James grinned.
Then released the couch.
One step.
Two.
A third, less convincing attempt.
Declan's hands flew forward.
James collapsed into them.
The entire room erupted.
Declan laughed.
I had heard him laugh more in the previous eleven months than during the final two years of our marriage.
He lifted James against his chest.
“You did it.”
James responded by grabbing his father's nose.
I watched them.
Something warm and dangerous moved through me.
Hope had become dangerous because I had once mistaken it for evidence.
I knew better now.
After dinner, everyone eventually left.
Declan stayed long enough to help clean.
That was another change.
Old Declan would have paid somebody.
Newer Declan apparently understood that loading a dishwasher would not threaten his net worth.
James slept upstairs.
I found Declan beside the Christmas tree holding the tiny blue sock I had saved from the previous year.
“You kept this?”
“I keep everything.”
“I know.”
He set it down.
For a moment neither of us spoke.
Then Declan said, “I've been thinking about something.”
“That usually gets expensive.”
“No money.”
“Proceed.”
His smile faded.
“I want to ask you to dinner.”
I stared at him.
“We eat together constantly.”
“Not because of James.”
The room became very quiet.
Declan continued before I could answer.
“No lawyers. No parenting schedule. No handoff afterward.”
My heart accelerated.
“A date.”
“Yes.”
I looked at the man standing in front of me.
Five months after our divorce, he had stormed into this house believing another man had replaced him.
Eleven months after that, he was standing beneath the same Christmas lights asking permission to buy me dinner.
I should have felt victorious.
I didn't.
I felt scared.
Declan saw.
“You can say no.”
“I know.”
“No.”
He stepped closer, then stopped at a respectful distance.
“I need you to actually know that.”
My throat tightened.
He had finally understood the part that mattered.
A yes meant nothing when no was unsafe.
“What if I say no?”
“I come back Thursday to pick up James at four.”
“And?”
“And I bring the diaper cream you keep forgetting to buy.”
I laughed.
He smiled.
“What if I say yes?”
“Dinner.”
“That's it?”
“That's it.”
“No assumptions?”
“No.”
“No moving back in?”
His expression became almost offended.
“Elena, I spent a year learning not to negotiate against myself. Don't ruin it.”
I laughed again.
Then I looked upstairs toward the room where our son slept.
I thought about the woman I had been the previous Christmas.
Five days postpartum.
Terrified.
Protective.
Still convinced that loving Declan meant eventually losing some piece of myself.
That woman had been right to leave.
I would never apologize for her.
The man standing in front of me was also not the same man she had left.
Maybe change could be real without rewriting the past.
Maybe forgiveness did not mean pretending something hadn't hurt.
Maybe another chance did not need to begin where the old marriage ended.
“Dinner,” I said.
Declan went completely still.
“Dinner?”
“One.”
His face changed so quickly I almost laughed.
The billionaire looked more relieved than he had after billion-dollar deals.
“One is good.”
“And Declan?”
“Yes?”
“This is not us getting remarried.”
“I know.”
“This is not me forgetting what happened.”
“I know.”
“This is not even me promising a second date.”
“I know.”
I studied him.
“Your therapist really is expensive.”
“Worth every cent.”
I smiled.
“So where are you taking me?”
He hesitated.
That worried me.
“If you say somewhere with twelve courses—”
“There's a little Italian place six blocks from here.”
I blinked.
“You know a restaurant in my neighborhood?”
“I've had eleven months.”
That landed more softly than I expected.
Declan reached for his coat.
At the door, he stopped beside the armchair he had almost collapsed against the previous Christmas.
His hand touched the back of it.
“I remember standing here.”
“So do I.”
“I thought I'd come here and find proof you'd replaced me.”
I said nothing.
“Instead I found James.”
His expression softened.
“And learned nobody had taken anything from me.”
I looked at him.
Declan continued.
“I'd lost you myself.”
The truth no longer felt like a weapon.
That was how I knew we had changed.
I stepped closer.
“Dinner Friday.”
His eyes lifted.
“Seven?”
“Seven.”
He opened the door.
Cold air moved into the warm hallway.
“Merry Christmas, Elena.”
“Merry Christmas, Declan.”
He started down the steps.
“Declan?”
He turned.
For one second I almost said nothing.
Then I walked onto the porch and kissed his cheek.
His entire body froze.
I stepped back.
“Don't make that weird.”
“I wouldn't dream of it.”
“You're already making it weird.”
“I haven't moved.”
“Exactly.”
He laughed.
Then he walked toward his car.
I watched until he reached it, just as I had the year before.
But this time there was no relief when he left.
No fear either.
Only possibility.
Five months after our divorce, Declan Rowan had learned he had a son.
It took almost another year for both of us to understand the more difficult truth.
James had never been the secret that destroyed our marriage.
Fear had.
Mine of what Declan's power could do.
His of being replaced.
And the arrogance we both used instead of admitting we were scared.
The first time Declan came to Maple Street, he arrived demanding to know who was inside my house.
The second Christmas, he finally understood the better question.
May you like
Whether I wanted him there.
And for the first time in a very long time, my answer was yes.
