Fallon
Chapter sixty-two
Late Night Tea
Fresh lavender and lilac coast through the air, tugging me along the hall until the solarium comes into view.
Where Cyrus waits. The windows are propped open, and the night air slips in, cool and gentle against my skin.
Relief blooms inside me at the sight of the two steaming cups of tea on the table—an unspoken welcome after a long day.
I drift forward, each step slower than the last, savoring the moment.
The small settee is soft as I shift to face him.
I let my fingers trail along the worn armrest, inhaling the earthy, clean scent of the room.
Cyrus’s broad frame shifts to face me, his presence enormous yet grounding. His eyes lift and catch mine.
Ferns and English ivy curl along the glass panes, shading him in a soft green cocoon. He looks too gorgeous for this space, yet somehow perfectly at home.
Pride swells within me at the thought of the sanctuary I’ve built over years of hard work. My chest tightens, pulse quickening with anticipation.
The muted earth tones of the furniture, paired with brightly colored rugs and textured pillows, make the room feel lived-in and warm. Cyrus leans forward to pass me a cup of tea before grabbing his own. I accept it gratefully, the heat seeping into my fingertips.
“Thank you for the tea. And this,” I say, gesturing to the flickering candles on the shelves. “This is my favorite time of day to enjoy this area.”
“You’ve definitely built a sanctuary here. It’s actually a really relaxing room.” His compliment warms me. “Thank you—it’s all for Billy. My goal has been to give her an unforgettable childhood. One that she doesn’t have to recover from.”
I take in the expansive glass panes, vintage furniture, knick-knacks, photo albums, and half-melted copper candlesticks. I never decorated with a man in mind—only Billy’s comfort.
“Her happiness is a testament to that,” he says. “She’s such a cool kid. You’re a wonderful mother.” His words settle over me, quieting some of the doubts I carry.
“Fallon.”
His voice pulls me back to him, his eyes holding mine with that same magnetic pull from our youth.
“Can we talk about a future where we’re both in it, together?”
I set my tea down. Giving him the attention this conversation deserves.
“Fallon,” he says, voice low and steady, “I think it’s time we press charges against your mother. She’s hurt you—hurt all of us—for long enough. I’m fully behind you. Whatever you decide, we’ll do it together. No more letting her shadow hang over this house or our family.”
I swallow hard as his thumb brushes over my knuckles.
“And while we’re facing that…I don’t want to keep living across the neighborhood anymore.
I want to move in here with you, with Billy and Liam.
For good. No more ‘slumber parties.’ I want my shoes by the door, my coffee mug next to yours, and our kids waking up under the same roof every morning.
I want to build this future with you—messy mornings, quiet nights, all of it. ”
He continues, voice cracking slightly. “I spent these last few months convincing myself giving you space was the right thing. That loving you from across town was enough. That sneaking in and out of bed when the kids aren’t looking was enough.
” He laughs once, soft and miserable. “Turns out I’m really damn bad at it. ”
A tear slips down my cheek. He brushes it away with his thumb.
“I don’t want half of you anymore, Fallon.
I don’t want dropped-off kids and empty beds.
I want to wake up with you every morning.
I want our babies under one roof. I want your laugh in every room of this house.
And when we press charges, I want to stand beside you through every step.
No more distance. Just us, focusing on the future we deserve. ”
His forehead presses against mine. “You already have me,” I whisper.
“No, honey,” he says softly. “I want to build it with you. Every morning. Every evening. You and me—whole, together. A family. Here, in this home you made.”
I lean into him, trembling with relief. “Is this a proposal?” I breathe.
His eyes hold mine. “Fal, if I thought you would say yes, I would put a ring on your finger. You’re not there yet, and I can wait a lifetime. If that’s what it takes.”
Something lodges in my throat. His acceptance and understanding of my hesitancy make me want to beg him to ask me anyway. I sniffle. “Yes, to all of it.”
He lifts me to straddle his lap, our lips brushing against each other, as thunder rumbles softly outside and rain pitter-patters against the glass.
The candles flicker, and for the first time in years, the future feels possible as I slide my hands through his hair. Both of us getting lost in one another.