10. JAXON
JAXON
Boundaries
Coming home to Lily and Zara already there feels… nice.
Lily runs straight to me, throwing her arms around my waist. God, I love this kid.
But am I imagining it, or is there something in Zara’s gaze that goes beyond polite acknowledgment?
During dinner, Lily chatters nonstop, bouncing between stories about school, her reading sticker, and an extremely detailed explanation of a dragon hierarchy I’m apparently expected to fully understand.
I nod at the right moments. Ask questions. Play along.
And the whole time, I’m acutely aware of Zara across the table, listening to Lily like nothing else exists. Her smile is easy. Genuine.
This—this is something we’ve never really had before.
A family dinner.
“You’re not listening,” Lily accuses, narrowing her eyes at me.
I blink. “I am.”
“What did I just say?”
I open my mouth. Pause.
Zara hides a smile behind her glass. Traitor.
“Something about dragons?” I try.
Lily gasps. “That was ten minutes ago!”
“I stand corrected,” I say solemnly.
Zara laughs softly, and something in my chest shifts.
“Zara gets it,” Lily continues, turning to her. “Right?”
“I absolutely do,” Zara says, nodding seriously. “The fire dragon outranks the ice dragon—unless it’s a full moon.”
Lily beams. “See? She listens.”
“I feel attacked,” I mutter.
Zara’s mouth curves slightly.
And I’m starting to realize this dinner is making my idea seem a whole lot less insane.
“Daddy, can we have dessert?” Lily cuts in, interrupting my thoughts.
I glance at Zara.
She lifts a brow. “Don’t look at me. You’re the authority figure.”
I sigh. “Fine. Small portion.”
“Yes!” Lily pumps her fist.
Zara gets up to grab the plates, moving around the kitchen like she’s done this a hundred times before.
***
After dinner, Lily insists on a story. Then another. Then one more because “the dragon isn’t finished yet.”
By the time she finally settles, she’s half-asleep already, her small hand clutching mine.
I brush her hair back gently.
“You good, bug?” I murmur.
“Mhm,” she mumbles.
I press a kiss to her forehead.
“Love you.”
“Love you too.”
I stay there a second longer than necessary.
Then I ease out of the room, pulling the door shut quietly behind me.
Zara is in the living room when I come back.
She’s curled slightly into the corner of the couch, a book in her hands—but she’s not reading.
Her gaze lifts when I step in.
There it is again.
That look she gave me when I came home.
My pulse ticks up.
“Are you ready to talk some more?” I ask carefully.
She nods immediately, setting the book aside.
“Yeah,” she says. “I am.”
I stay standing for a second, then move to sit across from her.
“About my proposition…” I begin.
“Yes?” she prompts.
“Have you thought about it more?”
“I have. And there are a few things I want to clarify first. You mentioned financial compensation. What exactly would that entail?”
“The arrangement would be generous,” I say, my voice steady again. Controlled. “We’d define a timeline. Once things settle, we’d end it cleanly. No complications.”
“If we do this—and I’m not saying we are—there would also need to be rules. Boundaries. We can’t just…” She gestures vaguely between us, like the words won’t come out right if she actually says them.
Right.
“Boundaries,” I repeat. “Of course.”
My gaze betrays me and drops to her mouth, just for a second.
Fuck.
Because the second I look, I remember.
The taste of her. The little sounds she made. Her lean body wrapped around me.
I drag my focus back up to her eyes, forcing my expression into something controlled. Neutral. Like I didn’t just think about pinning her against the nearest wall.
“Rules make sense,” I add, my voice steadier now. “This only works if we’re clear about what it is—and what it isn’t.”
Even as I say it, I’m not entirely sure I believe that line myself.
“The only reason we’re doing this is Lily,” Zara says quietly. “So we have to make sure she doesn’t get hurt in the long run. What I want is to still be part of her life when all of this is over. Give her real consistency. Not just short-term, but long-term.”
For a second, I just look at her.
Because she says it like it’s a condition. Like she’s asking for permission.
And that doesn’t sit right with me at all. She’d be the one doing me a favor.
“I really appreciate you saying that,” I say. “And that’s what I want for her, too. The compensation would include an arrangement for after the divorce—for you to still be present in our lives.”
Her brows draw together slightly. “Jax, that isn’t necess—”
“It is absolutely necessary,” I cut in, my voice steady. “This has to be worth your time and effort. I’ll make sure it is.”
She’s quiet for a moment. “Thank you,” she says finally, a little reluctantly. “Then what about Lily? How much do we tell her?”
I exhale slowly. I’ve thought about that a lot.
“Enough to make it feel real,” I say. “Not enough to confuse her.”
Zara nods slowly.
“She’s smart,” she says. “She’ll pick up on things.”
“I know.”
“And I won’t lie to her,” she adds.
“Neither will I.”
“What about my nanny duties? I’d want to keep taking care of Lily, of course.”
I lean back slightly, considering it, then shake my head. “Yes, Lily would be your main focus. But I don’t want your role in this household to stay that of an employee.”
Her brows lift. “Even under these new circumstances, it would still be my job.”
“Right,” I admit. “But it shouldn’t feel like you’re on the clock.
Or like your compensation depends in any way on how well you’re doing a job.
What you’re being compensated for is marrying me, living with Lily and me during that time, divorcing amicably, and staying in our lives after. It’s not tied to anything else.”
She studies me carefully. “So what about the day-to-day?”
“You and I share the responsibility for Lily,” I say. “And we have Mrs. Henriksen to support us. She’ll keep handling things when we’re busy—helping with Lily, the apartment, meals, whatever we need. And if it becomes too much, we bring in more help.”
“More help?” she echoes.
“I’m serious,” I say. “Additional support. Cleaning, errands—anything that takes pressure off. I don’t want you stretched thin. This isn’t meant to add to your workload. It’ll be different. And better compensated.”
Silence settles again, but it’s no longer tense.
“You trust me?” she asks suddenly.
The question catches me off guard. But the answer doesn’t. “Yes.”
Her gaze holds mine. “Why?”
“Because you’ve earned it,” I say simply.
Something in her expression shifts.
Softens.
“And you?” I ask. “Do you trust me?”
She hesitates.
“I think I do.”
Not a yes. But not a no. And somehow, that feels more real.
“There’s another aspect to this you might not have considered.” I shift slightly, uncomfortable. This is the part I like least.
She tenses, a flicker of unease crossing her face. “Oh?”
“With my job comes a certain level of media attention and scrutiny. That’s just how it is. And for this to hold up in court, our relationship needs to be visible. Verifiable.”
Zara doesn’t look happy about it. Not even a little.
It’s sinking in now—this wouldn’t just be a signature on paper. Not some private agreement behind closed doors.
This would be public.
Her arms fold loosely over her middle, like she’s holding herself together.
“Media,” she repeats.
“Yeah.”
Her lips press together. “So this wouldn’t just be… us knowing.”
“No,” I say, keeping my voice even. “It has to hold up under scrutiny. Reporters. Photos. Questions. If it looks staged, it won’t help.”
“If it looks fake,” she murmurs.
“Yes.”
A beat passes.
Then another.
“Actually, tomorrow’s media day,” I add, because there’s no easy way to soften this. “If you’re still considering it… it would help if you came to the game. Maybe without Lily this first time. Just to show presence.”
Zara exhales slowly.
“Right,” she says.
But she doesn’t sound convinced.
Shit.
I push a hand through my hair, already feeling like I’ve overplayed my hand. “Look, I know that’s a lot. I just—”
“Stop,” she says quietly.
I stop.
“This is complicated. Messy. Completely outside anything I ever planned for my life.”
“I know.”
“And the media thing?” She huffs out a small, humorless laugh. “I hate that part. I really hate that part.”
“Yeah,” I say quietly. “I figured.”
Her gaze lifts to mine. And then it stays there. Long enough that something in my chest starts to tighten.
“But,” she adds.
One word.
Everything in me locks onto it.
“But,” she repeats, slower now, like she’s testing it. “There’s also a six-year-old girl in the middle of all of this.”
My throat goes dry.
“And she deserves stability,” Zara continues. “She deserves someone who shows up. Someone who doesn’t cancel on her or make promises they don’t keep.”
I don’t interrupt.
“And you,” she says, softer now, “are already doing everything you can to give her that.”
Something in my chest pulls tight.
Zara’s voice steadies. “I see that. I saw it yesterday. I saw it today. I see it every day.”
Her words ring honest and true.
“So,” she says, drawing in a breath, like she’s about to jump off something high and irreversible, “if the question is whether I’d help you create that stability—”
My pulse pounds.
“I will.”