Chapter 28
AURELIA
Saturday arrives, and my body knows before the clock does.
I’m in the kitchen making lunch for the twins when my pulse kicks up for no reason. Heart beating faster, skin too warm. The doorbell hasn’t rung yet, but I know he’s coming. Three p.m. like clockwork.
The twins are in the playroom arguing about whether robots or dinosaurs would win in a fight. Finn insists robots have lasers. Liam counters that dinosaurs are bigger and stronger. Their voices carry down the hall, high and animated.
I’m chopping vegetables and trying not to think about Wednesday’s visit. About how Cassian sat on the floor with them, building that robot kit, patient and focused. About the moment his arm brushed mine and how that brief contact made my breath catch.
About how I couldn’t stop watching him.
The knife slips and nearly takes off my fingertip.
I set it down and grip the counter edge. This needs to stop. He’s here for the boys. The arrangement is working. I can’t mess it up by letting attraction cloud everything.
But when the doorbell rings at exactly three, my stomach flips anyway.
Julian answers. I hear low voices in the foyer, then footsteps, and Cassian walks into the kitchen.
He’s wearing jeans and a dark henley that fits him in ways that make it hard to look away.
His hair is slightly damp like he just showered.
I catch myself noticing and force my eyes back to the vegetables I’m not actually cutting anymore.
“The boys are in the playroom,” I say without looking up.
“Alright.”
He doesn’t move immediately.
“You don’t look like you’ve had enough rest,” he says.
“Why do you care?”
“Because you’re raising my sons. If you’re exhausted, it affects them.”
The practicality of it stings more than it should. Right. The boys. That’s why he’s asking.
“I sleep fine,” I lie.
“Aurelia—”
“The boys are waiting for you.”
He studies me for another moment, then leaves.
I exhale and go back to the vegetables with hands that won’t stay steady.
An hour later, I’m folding laundry in the sitting room when laughter pulls my attention.
Cassian and the twins are on the floor with the new robot kit Julian bought. Some complicated thing with moving parts and lights. Finn is chattering nonstop about what color they should paint it. Liam’s carefully reading the instructions aloud, stumbling over the bigger words.
Cassian helps him sound them out. Patient. No frustration when Liam has to try three times to get “hydraulic” right.
I watch him with them and feel something crack open in my chest. This is what they should have had from the beginning. A father who sits on the floor and builds things with them. Who listens when they talk and answers their questions seriously.
I gave them everything I could. But I couldn’t give them this.
Cassian glances up and catches me watching. Our eyes hold.
Heat crawls up my neck. I look back at the laundry, folding the same shirt twice because my hands forget what they’re doing. When I glance up again, he’s still watching me.
The twins don’t notice. Too absorbed in making the robot’s arm move.
But the air between us shifts. Gets heavier.
I stand up and take the laundry basket to the other room just to have an excuse to leave.
Another half hour passes.
I’m in the hallway putting away linens when Cassian’s phone buzzes. I hear him excuse himself, tell the boys he’ll be right back. His footsteps move toward the front of the house.
I keep folding towels and try not to listen to his voice in the next room. Low and controlled. Business call, probably. Something that can’t wait even during visits with his sons.
Nadia appears from upstairs. “I’m making cookies with the boys. Thought they could use a break from building.”
“That’s nice of you.”
“Want to help?”
“I should finish this first.”
She looks at me like she knows I’m lying but doesn’t call me on it. Just heads down to the playroom and I hear the twins’ excited shouts when she mentions cookies.
I’m alone in the hallway with an armful of towels when Cassian ends his call. He walks around the corner and stops when he sees me.
We’re maybe six feet apart. Close enough for me to see the muscle jump in his jaw. Close enough to smell whatever soap he uses.
I open my mouth to ask if everything’s okay with his call, but he moves before I can speak. Three strides and he’s in front of me.
The towels drop from my arms and hit the floor between us.
His hand slides around my waist, fingers pressing into the curve just above my hip. The other hand cups the back of my neck, thumb against my pulse point where my heart is trying to break through skin.
Then his mouth is on mine.
Not gentle. Not asking.
Just taking.
I kiss him back before my brain registers what’s happening.
My hands find his shirt, fist in the fabric, pull him closer even though there’s no space left between us.
He backs me against the wall and the impact makes me gasp.
He uses it, deepens the kiss, and I taste whiskey and want and six years of everything we’ve been burying.
His hand moves from my waist to my hip while mine slides up to his hair, tangles in it the way I’ve wanted to since he walked through the door.
We break apart just long enough to breathe and then we’re kissing again, desperate and consuming. His mouth moves to my jaw, down my neck, and I tilt my head back to give him access. My eyes close. His teeth scrape against my throat and I bite down on my lip to keep quiet.
The boys are thirty feet away in the kitchen. Nadia’s with them. Julian could walk past any second.
None of it matters.
His mouth comes back to mine and I meet him halfway. One of his hands is in my hair now, fisted at the base of my skull, holding me exactly where he wants me. The other is still on my hip, thumb pressing against bare skin where my shirt has ridden up.
Footsteps on the stairs.
We break apart so fast I nearly lose my balance.
Cassian’s across the hallway before I catch my breath, leaning against the opposite wall like he was just standing there the whole time. His chest rises and falls too quickly. His hair is messed up from my hands.
Nadia rounds the corner. She stops when she sees us.
“The boys want to show you their frosting masterpieces,” she says to Cassian. Then her eyes move to me. “You okay? You look flushed.”
“Fine. Just warm.”
She doesn’t look convinced. Her gaze moves between us, taking in details I can’t hide. My hair is probably a mess. My shirt is definitely crooked. Cassian looks like he just ran a mile.
But she doesn’t say anything. Just nods once and heads back toward the kitchen.
Cassian and I stay in the hallway.
My lips burn. My pulse hammers in my throat so hard I can see it in my peripheral vision. His hands left heat everywhere they touched and my body wants more.
“That was stupid,” I say.
“Probably.”
“We can’t do this.”
“You already said that.”
“I mean it.”
“Do you?”
I want to say yes. Want to tell him this was a mistake and it can’t happen again and we need to keep things professional for the boys’ sake. But the lie won’t come.
He pushes off the wall and moves toward the kitchen without touching me. Without looking back. I stay in the hallway until I remember how to breathe normally.
The rest of the visit I can’t go near him. I busy myself with dishes that don’t need washing. Wipe down counters that are already clean.
Through the doorway, I can see Cassian helping the boys frost cookies. Finn gets more frosting on his shirt than the cookies. Liam concentrates with his tongue between his teeth. Cassian laughs at something Finn says and the sound carries through the house and settles in my chest.
At five, Julian appears to end the visit. The boys protest like always. Finn wants five more minutes. Liam asks if Cassian can stay for dinner. He tells them no but promises to come back Wednesday. They hug him goodbye and run off to show Nadia their cookies.
I walk him to the door because avoiding it would be obvious.
We stop in the foyer. Julian’s back in his study. We’re alone.
“Wednesday,” Cassian says.
“Wednesday,” I echo.
We stand there and the air crackles with everything we’re not saying.
Then he’s gone and I’m alone with my pulse still racing and my mouth still remembering the taste of him.
That night, sleep doesn’t come.
I lie in bed and replay the kiss. His hands on my waist. His mouth on my neck. The desperate way we came together like we’d been starving and finally found food.
This is dangerous.
Everything was working. The boys are comfortable with him now. The supervised visits are building trust. Julian’s terms are protecting everyone.
And I kissed their father in the hallway like none of that matters.
I turn over and press my face into the pillow.
If Julian finds out he’ll restrict access. Make the visits shorter or less frequent. Maybe end them entirely until things settle.
If the boys sense something between us they’ll get confused. Start building fantasies about their parents getting together.
If Cassian thinks this means more than it does—
But what if it does mean more? What if six years didn’t kill what started on that plane? What if I’ve spent six years lying to myself about what I feel for him?
I turn over again and stare at the ceiling.
My body still remembers where he touched me. Still wants his hands back on my skin.
I don’t fall asleep until almost dawn.
The twins wake me two hours later asking for breakfast. I drag myself downstairs and make pancakes on autopilot while they argue about whether superheroes could beat dragons.
Finn notices I’m moving slower than usual. “Mam, are you sick?”
“No, baby. Just tired.”
“You look tired.”
“Thanks for noticing.”
Liam watches me with those green eyes that see too much. Doesn’t say anything, but I know he’s cataloging details. Storing them away to examine later when I’m not looking.
“When is Da coming back?” Finn asks around a mouthful of pancake.
“Wednesday.”
“Can he come sooner?”
“No. The schedule is the schedule.”
“But we want to see him more.”
My chest tightens. “I know.”
Liam sets down his fork. “Do you want to see him more?”
The question catches me completely off guard.
Both boys are watching me now. Waiting.
“That’s complicated,” I say finally.
Finn rolls his eyes. “You always say that.”
“Because it’s always true.”
Liam doesn’t look satisfied. He picks his fork back up and goes back to eating, but I know this conversation isn’t over. It’s just delayed.
I finish my coffee and try not to think about Wednesday. About seeing Cassian again in four days. About what happens next time we’re alone.
About whether I’ll stop it or let it happen again.