Chapter 41
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
KATE
The last place I expect to see Lukas is the garden centre café on a Wednesday afternoon after the shitty day I’ve had at school.
Honestly, the last place I expect to find myself is the garden centre café on a Wednesday afternoon, too.
Hudson needed supplies for a science project involving plant cuttings and “photosynthesis conditions,” and apparently, I’m the kind of mother who now spends her free time standing in front of trays of herbs, wondering why basil plants are so expensive.
The café is busy in that kind of midweek way that feels almost aggressively domestic.
Pensioners drinking tea. Parents with toddlers smearing cake across tables.
The low hum of conversation mingles with the clink of coffee cups and the faint scent of soil drifting in whenever the automatic doors from the greenhouse section open.
I’m balancing two drinks and a plate with a toasted sandwich on it when I hear someone speaking French behind me. But it’s not the French that distracts me, it’s his voice.
Low and warm, instantly recognisable in a way that makes my entire body react before my brain catches up. I freeze, and my stomach drops so rapidly that I nearly spill coffee over my hand.
“No, Félix, doucement,” Lukas says from somewhere behind me, laughter threading his voice. “You cannot sprint everywhere, mon petit chaos.”
For one stupid second, I consider walking away before he sees me. It’s been weeks of carefully rebuilding myself and of trying not to think about him every second of every day. Weeks of learning to exist in the empty space he left behind.
And I’ve been managing. Not well or gracefully, but enough to survive it.
Then I turn around, and there he is.
Lukas stands near the counter in a grey hoodie and jeans, one hand gripping a toddler-sized dinosaur backpack while the other steadies a little blond boy who is trying very hard to wriggle free.
Félix is laughing at something, cheeks flushed pink with excitement, his tiny trainers squeaking on the tiled floor as he twists dramatically in Lukas’ hold.
The sight hits me so hard I physically stop breathing for a second. This is the first time I’ve really seen them together outside the chaos of the rink. And God, he looks like a father. The role already lives inside him somehow.
Lukas glances up then. The second his eyes meet mine, his entire expression changes. It’s shock first, then something softer. Deeper, almost painful. “Kate.”
My name leaves him quietly, as if he wasn’t expecting it either, and every instinct in me screams to protect myself. But before I can decide whether to smile, leave, or maybe even combust on the spot, Félix notices me too.
Big blue eyes blink up at me curiously, but then he grins as though I’m immediately acceptable to him for reasons known only to toddlers.
“Well, hello,” I say automatically before I can stop myself, my voice gentler than I intended.
Félix instantly hides behind Lukas’ leg, and I can’t help but smile as a chuckle escapes me.
Lukas exhales softly through his nose, one hand resting lightly against Félix’s back. “He does this for approximately eight seconds before deciding if he likes someone.”
“And what happens after eight seconds?”
“He becomes extremely attached.”
As if summoned by the accusation, Félix peeks around Lukas’ leg again, apparently deciding I pass inspection as he toddles directly towards me.
Oh no, absolutely not. My heart can’t survive this. I set the coffees carefully onto the nearest empty table just in time for Félix to stop directly in front of me, staring up expectantly.
“Bonjour,” he says proudly.
His tiny accent nearly kills me instantly. I smile before I can help it. “Bonjour.”
His face lights up as though I’ve personally handed him Christmas. Behind him, Lukas looks utterly wrecked already.
I can feel it without even fully looking at him. That heavy, aching attention he always gave me when something mattered too much.
“Félix,” Lukas says carefully, attempting some level of parental dignity. “You can’t just wander up to strangers.”
“No stranger,” Félix informs him seriously. The words land strangely between all three of us, because technically, he’s wrong. But emotionally? I don’t know anymore.
Félix turns back toward me with complete confidence. “You pretty.”
Oh my God. I laugh helplessly, pressing a hand lightly against my chest. “Well, thank you.”
“He says that to every woman over twenty,” Lukas says dryly.
I finally look at Lukas, then immediately wish I hadn’t, because he looks tired. Not just physically, but emotionally as well. The last few weeks have carved something deeper into him.
There are shadows beneath his eyes, exhaustion lingering around the edges of him despite his gentle expression now. But underneath all of that, he still looks at me exactly the same way. Like losing me didn’t stop anything, and something painful twists low in my chest.
“You look good,” he says quietly.
I laugh at the absurdity of that, considering I’m standing in a garden centre holding two lattes and wearing trainers covered in whatever Hudson tracked through the car earlier.
“You are not legally obligated to say that now,” I reply lightly.
A faint smile pulls at his mouth, and God, I’ve missed that smile.
Félix is still standing directly beside me now, his tiny hand is wrapped around the hem of my cardigan like we’ve known each other forever.
The contact is so innocent that it bypasses every defence I have.
Maybe that’s why it hurts so much, and instantly, I understand why Lukas fell apart over him.
This little boy is impossible not to love.
“Are you shopping?” I ask eventually, mostly because I need to say something normal before my emotions completely overtake me.
Lukas nods once. “Camille has an exhibition event tonight. I am apparently responsible for snacks.” He lifts the dinosaur backpack slightly. “And emotional support dinosaurs.”
“That is very important work,” I tell Félix solemnly. He nods seriously.
Lukas watches the interaction for a second too long, and I feel every second of it. There’s something shifting in his expression. Something dangerously close to longing. It’s as though watching me with Félix is his undoing.
As I stand here, watching this little boy cling to my hand while Lukas looks at both of us like we’re something precious, my brain betrays me completely.
For the first time since all of this happened, I can suddenly see it.
Not the heartbreak of losing him but the possibility. The possibility of more.
I can envisage the slow Saturday mornings before games, the school runs and hockey games. The laughter around the dinner table and Lukas carrying his son half-asleep while Hudson complains about something trivial in the background. It looks dangerously like a future.
A real one.
The thought hits me so fast that my throat tightens. This is dangerous because if I start hoping again, I don’t know how I will survive losing him twice.
“Mama says I draw good,” Félix announces out of nowhere.
“I’m sure you do.”
“I draw dinosaurs.”
“Even better.”
He beams at me proudly before reaching for my hand again, as if it belongs there.
And somewhere behind him, Lukas breaks a little.
I see it happen as his chest rises sharply and his gaze softens.
The way he looks at me, holding his son’s hand, it’s as though he’s witnessing something he already wants too badly.
For a moment, neither of us speaks, and the noise of the café fades around the edges, and it’s just us. That feels even more terrifying now than it did before.
Hudson’s name flashes across my phone screen suddenly from where it sits beside the coffee on the table.
Mum, where are you???
Reality crashes back immediately. I blink hard and step back, disentangling my hand from Félix’s tiny fingers before I get too attached to the feeling of it. “I should go,” I say lightly.
Disappointment flickers across Lukas’ face. Or maybe it’s resignation. Probably both.
Félix looks personally offended by this development. “No,” he says in that cute French drawl.
It makes me chuckle despite myself. “Sorry, sweetheart. My son is waiting for me.”
Félix considers this carefully before nodding once as if he’s decided Hudson is acceptable competition. “Okay.”
I look at Lukas one last time as I reach for the coffee again.
For a moment, neither of us says anything. Then quietly, almost rough around the edges, he says, “It was good to see you.”
My chest aches. “You too.”
And I mean it far more than I should. I leave before I can ruin myself completely by staying longer. The entire drive home, one thought keeps replaying in my head over and over again.
Not impossible.