22. Declan #2
The expression on Stellan's face is priceless—pure panic mixed with something that might be longing. "I don't know how."
"I'll show you." I move closer, adjusting Maeve in my arms. "It's not complicated. Just don't drop her."
"Very reassuring." But he's already reaching out, letting me transfer Maeve into his arms.
He holds her like she's made of glass, arms stiff and awkward. Maeve seems unbothered by his obvious terror—she just grabs onto his shirt with sticky fingers and studies his face with intense concentration.
"Hi." Stellan sounds uncertain, which might be the first time I've ever heard that particular tone from him. "I'm your uncle. I'm... supposed to help take care of you or something."
Maeve babbles something enthusiastic, then reaches for his face. He catches her hand before she can grab his nose, which makes her laugh.
"She likes you." Zola's definitely smiling now. "That's a good sign. She usually cries at strangers."
"I'm not a stranger." Stellan's found his footing again, that natural confidence sliding back into place. "I'm family."
And there it is—the shift I was hoping for. He's not just doing this because I asked. He's actually connecting with her, actually seeing Maeve as someone worth protecting.
I catch Zola's eye and she mouths what are you doing? I just shake my head slightly—I'll explain later.
For now I just watch my brother figure out how to hold a baby without looking like he's defusing a bomb, and I let myself imagine what it'll be like when this is our normal.
When Stellan's a regular part of Maeve's life, when Zola's walls finally come down completely, when we're an actual family instead of people tiptoeing around what we could be.
Over the next week, Stellan shows up at the bookstore almost as often as I do. Sometimes it's just for an hour in the morning before we head to work. Other times it's in the afternoon, sandwiched between meetings that require us to remind people why crossing the Wolfes is a bad idea.
He's getting better with Maeve. Less stiff, more natural.
She's taken to him faster than I expected—reaches for him when he walks in, fusses when he tries to leave until she remembers I'm her favorite person and clings to me.
He pretends to be annoyed by her sticky hands and constant demands for attention, but I can see it in his face. He's gone for her.
"She threw up on me." He's standing in Zola's bathroom, trying to clean spit-up off his shirt. "Why does she do that?"
"Because she's a baby." I'm changing Maeve on the floor, wiping her mouth. "Happens sometimes. You'll live."
"I had a meeting in an hour." He strips off the shirt, tosses it in the hamper. "Now I have to go home and change."
"Or you could borrow one." Zola appears in the doorway, holding out a black t-shirt that's definitely too big for her. "Declan left this here last week."
Stellan takes it, studies the fabric like he's checking for poison. "This is yours?"
"Was mine." I finish with Maeve's diaper, snap her onesie back into place. "Not anymore apparently."
"She steals your clothes?" Stellan pulls on the shirt. It fits him better than it fits her, which makes sense since we're close to the same build.
"Only the comfortable ones." Zola leans against the doorframe. "I gave back everything that smelled too much like cologne."
"But kept the stuff that smells like him." Stellan looks between us. "That's disgustingly domestic."
"You're wearing his shirt right now." Zola points out.
"That's different. Mine has baby vomit on it."
I scoop up Maeve, carry her back to the living room.
They follow, still bickering about clothing theft and what counts as domestic behavior.
It feels normal in a way I didn't realize I'd been craving—not just me and Zola trying to figure out how to be together again, but actual family.
The three of us plus Maeve, building something that feels solid and real.
"So when's this meeting?" Zola settles onto the couch, reaching for her coffee.
"Two hours." Stellan checks his watch. "Supposed to be simple. Guy borrowed money, needs reminding that interest doesn't stop accumulating just because he's avoiding us."
"You want me to come?" I'm bouncing Maeve, trying to wear her out before naptime.
"Nah. Jamie and I can handle it." He looks at Maeve. "You staying here?"
"For a bit. Then I've got that thing at the docks."
Zola's gone very still, that careful mask sliding into place that means she's trying not to think too hard about what "that thing at the docks" might entail.
We still don't talk details—our unspoken agreement from eight years ago still holding—but she knows enough to understand the work isn't pretty.
"Be careful." She says it quietly, like she doesn't want to admit she cares.
"Always am." I catch Stellan's eye. "You too."
"Please." He heads for the door. "I'm basically indestructible."
After he leaves, Zola looks at me. "What are you doing?"
"What do you mean?"
"Bringing Stellan around. Teaching him how to take care of Maeve." She sets down her coffee. "He shows up almost every day now. What's going on?"
I could lie. Could tell her I just wanted Stellan to know his niece, which is true but not the whole truth. Instead I settle onto the couch beside her, Maeve still in my arms.
"I want to take you on a date." The words come out more direct than I intended. "Just you and me. Dinner somewhere nice. No baby, no work, no distractions. Just us figuring out how to be together without everything else getting in the way."
She blinks. "A date."
"Yeah. This Saturday if you're free." I watch Maeve's eyes start drooping. "Stellan's going to watch Maeve."
"Stellan." She says his name slowly, like she's testing how it sounds. "The guy who looked like he might pass out the first time he held her. That Stellan."
"He's better now." I stand, carry Maeve to her bedroom. "And he's family. I trust him."
Zola follows me, watches as I settle Maeve in her crib. The baby immediately curls onto her side, thumb finding its way to her mouth.
"Why?" She keeps her voice low so we don't wake Maeve. "Why a date? We're together most days anyway."
"Because I love you." I turn to face her.
"Not because you're an incredible mother—though you are.
Not because I want to help with Maeve—though I do.
But because you're you. And I need you to know that.
Need us to remember what it's like to just be Declan and Zola, not parents or caregivers or people managing logistics. "
Her eyes go bright, that vulnerable expression she only lets me see when her walls are down. "We were never that before. Just Declan and Zola without anything else."
"Then let's figure out what that looks like now." I reach for her hand. "Let me take you to dinner. Let me remind you why I fell in love with you in the first place."
"I remember why." She steps closer, presses her free hand against my chest. "I've never forgotten."
"Then say yes." I cover her hand with mine. "Let me court you properly this time."
She laughs—soft and almost shy. "Court me? What are we, Victorian nobility?"
"If that's what it takes." I'm only half joking. "I'll do whatever you need. Grand gestures, slow and steady, complete radio silence for a week if that's what helps. Just tell me what you need and I'll make it happen."
"I need..." She trails off, searching for words. "I need to believe this is real. That you're here because you want to be, not because you feel obligated. That if I let myself fall completely, you'll actually catch me."
"Then let me prove it." I press my forehead against hers. "One date. That's all I'm asking. Let me show you I'm serious about this."
She's quiet for a long moment, and I can see her working through it—weighing the risk against what she wants, trying to decide if she's brave enough to take this step.
Finally she nods. "Okay. Saturday. But if Stellan traumatizes my daughter, you're sleeping on the couch for a month."
"Deal." I can't help grinning. "He won't though. He's better with her than he thinks."
"He'd better be." But she's smiling now, real and warm. "Where are we going?"
"That's a surprise."
"I hate surprises."
"You'll like this one." I kiss her forehead, reluctant to let go but knowing I need to get to the docks. "I promise."
She walks me to the door, and I force myself to leave even though every instinct says to stay. But Saturday's coming. Saturday I get her alone, get to remind her what we are when the rest of the world fades away.
I just have to make sure Stellan doesn't accidentally kill my daughter first.