Chapter 31 Aisling
AISLING
A week feels like a lifetime when you’ve been living half a life for five years.
Riley has been here seven days, and my heart has never been fuller.
Not in the loud, bursting way that feels unsustainable, but in a deep, steady way, like something finally settled into the place it always belonged.
She wakes up every morning tangled in unfamiliar sheets and smiles anyway.
She follows Raf through the house like he’s a magnet.
She insists on sitting beside him at breakfast, legs swinging, asking him questions that range from “Why do you drink coffee if it’s bitter?” to “If you were an animal, would you be a wolf or a lion?”
He answers every single one. Sometimes seriously. Sometimes playfully. Always patiently.
Watching them together feels like standing too close to a fire—warm and dangerous all at once.
My relationship with Raf has shifted into something new, something unnamed but undeniably real.
We haven’t said the words. We haven’t drawn lines or erased the old ones.
But he reaches for me in his sleep now, pulls me closer without thinking.
He kisses my temple when he passes me in the hallway. He looks at me like I’m something he’s quietly decided to keep.
And God help me, I want to keep him too.
Riley stands on the living room rug, crayons scattered everywhere, entirely forgotten, tongue caught between her teeth as she concentrates. Raf sits cross-legged beside her, suit jacket discarded, sleeves rolled up, letting her braid one section of his hair with intense seriousness.
“You’re doing great,” he tells her solemnly.
“I know,” she says, nodding. “I’m very good at this.”
I watch from the doorway, hand pressed to my lips like I might burst with love or laughter at any moment. This is what it could look like.
The thought scares me enough that I almost retreat, almost shut the door on the idea before it roots too deeply.
But then Raf looks up and catches me watching, his mouth tilting into that half-smile that feels like it’s just for me.
“Come here,” he says.
I cross the room on unsteady legs and sit beside them. Riley leans against me automatically, warm and solid and real.
This is my life. And it’s built on a lie.
The doubt creeps in during quiet moments, insidious and sharp. When Riley laughs a little too much like me, when Raf praises her stubborn streak. When his hand rests on her back with unconscious protectiveness.
He doesn’t know.
Only my parents, my brothers, and I do—the people who helped me survive the fallout.
The people who agreed, without question, that Riley would be safer this way.
That the truth would only complicate things. That Raf had already walked away and left me with the pieces.
What if telling him destroys everything?
The question coils tightly in my chest, refusing to loosen. I don’t care about my reputation anymore.
I don’t care how the truth might impact me. But I do care how it might hurt my family. Hurt Riley. And she’s all that matters.
I want her to live a full, happy life—without the stigma that would come from being born out of wedlock.
And I just can’t risk that over the hope that Raf and I might have something real. I need to be certain.
That night, after Riley is asleep and the house is quiet, Raf and I are drawn back to each other with a pull that feels as inevitable as gravity.
The intimacy between us has softened, deepened.
It’s less frantic now, more certain. He touches me like he’s learning me all over again, and maybe he is. Maybe we both are.
And every time he does, it makes me crave him more.
There might be less urgency in the connection.
We might take our time, teasing each other into a frenzy, relishing every touch, but it’s no less electric.
Raf unravels me again and again, his body attuned to my every desire—as if he can pluck them from my mind before they’re even fully formed.
Afterward, we lie tangled together, the sheets warm, the room dim. His arm is heavy around my waist, his thumb tracing slow patterns into my skin.
The moment feels fragile, honest, and I know that I can’t keep waiting, hoping for an answer. I need to be brave enough to find it.
Taking a breath, I decide to find my courage—and take a leap.
“Can I ask you something?” I say quietly.
He hums, lips brushing my shoulder. “Always.”
I stare at the wall, heart racing. “Do you still feel like… you’ll never be able to love another woman? That Genevieve was it for you?”
His thumb stills.
I regret the question instantly, fear spiking sharply and suddenly.
But he doesn’t pull away. He shifts slightly, propping himself up on an elbow, cheek resting in his palm so he can look at me. “I used to think that,” he says slowly. “For a long time.”
I swallow. “And now?”
He exhales, gaze distant. “Now I think Genevieve wouldn’t want me to live like that. Closed off. Alone.” His eyes come back to me. “I’m starting to come around to the idea of wanting a family someday.” The corner of his lips tips up, forming that devastatingly charming crooked smile.
And the words send a rush of warmth and terror straight through me.
He studies my face. “How do you feel about it?”
My pulse roars in my ears. He means it generally, hypothetically. I know that. But my heart doesn’t care.
“Are you ready to call our fake relationship quits?” he asks almost playfully. “To start a family of our own?”
The question lands heavily between us.
This is the edge of the cliff.
I can feel it.
We’re both hedging around the real question—whether we can be a real couple.
One step forward changes everything. And it makes me nervous.
Then I think of Riley’s sleepy smiles.
Of the way Raf looks at her.
Of the way he holds me like I matter.
I want that.
I want all of it for a lifetime.
“I do,” I say softly. “I want a family,” I amend, keeping that door cracked and praying he’ll step through it.
He searches my face, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes, and suddenly, I’m nervous, my mouth running to stave off the silence.
“I’ve always wanted children—a house full of them, making it ring with laughter and noise.
” Emotion swells in my chest as I recall with vivid clarity the moment I took my daughter in my arms for the very first time.
“There’s no better feeling than becoming a mother.
” The words are barely out of my mouth before I realize what I’ve done, and my stomach plummets.
Raf’s brow furrows. “What do you mean?” he asks.
The blood drains from my face. Oh, God, what did I just do?
He shifts slightly, concern sharpening his gaze, and my heart slams against my ribs, panic exploding inside me all at once.
I got so caught up in the moment, I said too much.
I all but blurted the secret I’ve been keeping all this time—and Raf was listening closely enough to catch it.