Chapter 27
CASSIAN
It’s been four days since I met my sons properly. Four days of thinking about nothing else. The way Finn laughed when the construction set finally worked. The way Liam watched me with those serious eyes that are exactly like mine.
I arrive at the estate at three exactly.
Julian answers the door. He steps aside to let me in without saying a word.
Aurelia’s in the sitting room with the boys. She’s wearing a navy dress today, fitted at the waist, hem hitting just above her knees. Not the casual clothes from Saturday. The dress shows her figure in ways that make it hard to focus.
I force my eyes to the twins.
Finn sees me first, and his face lights up. “Da! You came back!” He runs over and crashes into my legs.
The impact nearly knocks me backward, but I catch him, one hand on his shoulder. “I said I would.”
“Can we finish the car today?”
“That’s the plan.”
Liam approaches more slowly. Stops a few feet away and looks up at me. “Hi.”
“Hi, Liam.”
“We’ve been working on it. But we left the hard parts for you.”
Pride swells in my chest. They waited for me. Saved the complicated pieces because they wanted to build them together.
“Smart thinking.”
Aurelia stands. “I’ll get the model kit.”
She walks past me, and I catch her perfume. It hits me the same way it did six years ago on that plane.
I sit on the floor where we were last time. Both boys settle in close, one on each side. Finn immediately starts talking about what they’ve done since Saturday. Liam listens and occasionally corrects details Finn gets wrong.
Aurelia returns with the model kit and sets it on the coffee table. She sits on the couch, legs crossed at the ankle, that dress pulling tight across her thighs when she adjusts her position.
I look away and focus on the boys. “Alright. Let’s see what we’re working with.”
We spread out the pieces. The chassis is assembled. The wheels are attached. What’s left are the detailed parts—the engine, the interior, the decals.
“This piece goes here,” I tell Finn, handing him a small component. “See where it clicks in?”
He tries. Gets it wrong. Tries again. On the third attempt it snaps into place and his whole face transforms with satisfaction. “I did it!”
“You did.”
Liam’s working on the seats, his small fingers surprisingly dexterous. He gets frustrated when one won’t fit right and makes an annoyed sound.
“Here.” I lean over and show him the angle. “Try it like this.”
He adjusts, and it slides in perfectly. “Thanks.”
“You’re so patient.”
“Mam says patience is important.”
I glance at Aurelia. She’s watching us, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
Our eyes meet.
She looks away first, uncrosses her legs, then recrosses them the other way. The movement draws my attention back to the dress, to the shape of her under it.
“Da, look!” Finn holds up the completed engine assembly. “Does it look right?”
I examine it. “Perfect. Now we attach it to the chassis.”
“Where do you live?” Finn asks suddenly.
“Manhattan. A building downtown.”
“Is it big?”
“Big enough.”
“Do you have toys?”
“No. I don’t usually have kids visiting.”
“But we could visit?”
The question catches me off guard. “Maybe someday.”
“When?”
I glance at Aurelia again. She’s tense now, listening closely.
“When your mam says it’s okay.”
Finn accepts this and goes back to the model.
Liam’s quieter. He’s been working on the interior details, adding tiny stickers to the dashboard, but now he’s just holding a piece and staring at it.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
He looks up at me. “Why weren’t you there before?”
The question I’ve been expecting. The one I don’t have a good answer for.
“I didn’t know you existed. Your mam didn’t tell me.”
“Why not?”
“That’s complicated.”
“Mam says you would have wanted us if you knew.”
My throat tightens. “She’s right. I would have.”
“But you didn’t know.”
“No.”
“And now you do.”
“Now I do.”
He nods slowly, processing this with the seriousness only small children can manage. Then he goes back to the model as if the conversation never happened.
But it sits in my chest, heavy and aching. I would have wanted them. If anyone had told me Aurelia was pregnant, if I’d known those boys in Ballycotton were mine, everything would have been different.
But nobody told me.
She kept them hidden from me.
I watch her across the room, and the mix of emotions is dizzying. Want, resentment, and admiration all tangled together. She raised good kids. Patient, curious, kind kids who ask questions and build things carefully and hug their father even though they barely know him.
She did that.
Without me.
Finn mentions Ireland again while we’re attaching the wheels.
“I miss the beach,” he says. “And the harbor where the boats are.”
“Ballycotton?”
“Yeah. Do you know it?”
“I do. My mother lives there.”
Both boys look up.
“We have a grandmother?” Liam asks.
“You do.”
“Does she know about us?”
“Not yet.”
“Why not?”
“Because I only just found out about you. But I’ll tell her soon. And maybe someday you can meet her.”
I can see it already. Taking them to the village. Showing them the cottage where I grew up. Letting them play on the same beach I played on as a kid. My mother would love them. Would spoil them with sweets and stories about their grandfather.
But not yet. Not until this supervised bullshit ends and I can take my sons somewhere without asking permission.
The model car is nearly finished when Julian appears in the doorway. “Time,” he says.
Just the one word. Like I’m a prisoner whose visiting hours are up.
The resentment flares hot and immediate. I’m their father. These are my sons. And I’m being dismissed like hired help.
But I swallow it down because losing my temper now means losing access to them.
“Alright, boys. I have to go.”
Finn’s face falls. “Already?”
“Yeah. But I’ll be back Saturday.”
“That’s so far away.”
“It’s only three days.”
Liam carefully sets down the piece he’s holding. “Can we finish the car then?”
“Absolutely.”
They both stand up. Finn hugs me first, wrapping his arms around my waist and squeezing tight. Then Liam joins, more tentative but just as genuine.
I close my eyes and memorize this. The weight of them against me. The smell of their shampoo. The way they fit perfectly under my arms.
They pull back, and Aurelia herds them toward the kitchen, where Nadia’s waiting with snacks. I’m left alone with Julian.
“Thank you for coming,” he says. Polite. Neutral.
“They’re my sons. I don’t need thanks for seeing them.”
“You’re here on our terms. Don’t forget that.”
“How could I? You remind me every visit.”
His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t rise to it. Just gestures toward the foyer.
Aurelia is waiting in the hall. Must have left the boys with Nadia. She walks with me to the front door. We’re close in the narrow hallway. Close enough that I can smell her perfume again, see the pulse jumping in her throat.
Our eyes meet.
Neither of us speaks.
The attraction is still there. Buried under anger and resentment and years of lies, but it’s there. I can see it in the way her pupils dilate, the way her breath catches slightly when I step closer.
I want to kiss her. Want to back her against the wall and taste her again. But Julian’s watching from the other room, and this is already complicated enough.
“Saturday,” I say.
“Saturday,” she agrees.
I leave before I do something that gets me banned from seeing my sons. But the want follows me all the way to my car.
Declan’s waiting in the driver’s seat. “How’d it go?” he asks as I slide into the passenger side.
“Fine.”
“Just fine?”
“They’re good kids. Smart. Curious. They ask a lot of questions.”
“What kind of questions?”
“Why I wasn’t there before. Where I live. If they have other family.”
“What did you tell them?”
“The truth. Simplified version.”
Declan pulls away from the estate. “You’re different with them.”
“What do you mean?”
“Softer. Patient. I’ve never seen you like that.”
“They’re children. You have to be patient with children.”
“It’s more than that. You actually like it. Being a father.”
I don’t answer.
He’s not wrong. I do like it. More than I expected. The way they look at me like I have all the answers. The way Finn laughs at things I say without thinking. The way Liam leans against me while we’re building like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
I want more of it. More than two hours twice a week in a supervised room with their mother watching my every move. I want mornings and bedtimes. Want to take them to school, help with homework, and teach them things my father taught me.
I want my family.
“What are you thinking?” Declan asks.
“That I’m tired of playing by their rules.”
“Don’t do anything stupid.”
“I won’t.”
But the frustration is building. And eventually, it’s going to boil over.