Chapter 40 #2
“That’s the past,” I said again, firmer this time. “We’ve got the rest of our lives ahead of us. The only question is—will we stand together for it?”
Her small hand slid across the table to rest on mine. “Yes,” she said simply and without hesitation.
Something inside me twisted at that. Her hand—small, bare, no rings—rested on mine, and my chest ached with a feeling I’d gladly admit out loud if I didn’t think it’d scare Raven. Jesus Christ, was I turning into an emotional fool in my old age?
Yeah. I was.
I reached into my breast pocket and pulled out the wedding ring I’d taken from the corpse. Her ring.
“Then let me put this back where it belongs,” I rasped, sliding it back where it should have been for the past five years. “I want the world to know you’re mine.”
Her lips parted, eyes wide, tears glistening in the candlelight.
“What—where—” She blinked rapidly, searching for words. “I don’t know what’s happening to me. I feel so emotional all of a sudden.”
“It’s because we’re pregnant,” I said, a smug smile tugging at my mouth.
She laughed, a tear slipping down her cheek.
“You kept it all this time?” she asked, lightly brushing her fingertip over the band I’d given her five years ago.
“I couldn’t part with it,” I admitted.
Her eyes locked with mine, soft and remorseful. “It makes me feel like a heartless bitch. You were mourning… and I was living.”
“You were living,” I echoed. “But also surviving. We both were. And maybe it had to happen that way. You grew up, got stronger, learned to fly. Besides”—I leaned closer, lowering my voice—“you still saved something for me.”
Her brows knitted in confusion. “What?”
I let my lips graze her ear. “Your virginity. All your firsts are mine.”
Her cheeks flushed crimson, but before she could reply, the waiter returned with our food, breaking the spell.
We ate, talked, and laughed. For a while, the world shrank to just us—good food, the candlelight, the soft hum of Paris outside. And then—
“Aiden?”
The voice cut through the restaurant, sharp and familiar.
Raven froze mid-breath, her fork hovering just above her plate. My shoulders went rigid, the warmth between us vanishing in an instant.
I turned my head slowly, the muscles in my jaw tightening as my gaze met his.
Uncle Jack.
Of all the goddamn people to run into in Paris.
“Aiden,” he drawled, sauntering toward our table with that smug, lazy confidence I’d always hated. “Didn’t expect to still find you in Paris.”
I set my glass down with deliberate calm. “What are you doing here?”
He lifted a hand in a careless wave, his gold cufflinks catching the light. “Celebrating my anniversary. Twenty years of marital bliss.”
Across the room, my aunt gave us a polite, almost apologetic wave before turning back to her wine—tactful enough to know not to step into whatever this was.
Jack’s eyes finally shifted to Raven, and for the first time in his life, he froze. The color drained from his face as recognition—or disbelief—set in.
“What the fuck…” he breathed, voice dropping low. His stare darted between us. “Who’s… who the hell is this?”
Raven didn’t flinch. Her jaw tightened, her hands curling on the table, but her glare was sharp enough to cut glass.
I leaned back in my chair, my tone deceptively calm. “You should probably get back to your table before you make a scene.”
He stood there at the edge of our table, looking between Raven and me like the world had just cracked open beneath his feet.
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered. “She’s supposed to be dead.”
Raven’s expression was unreadable, though I could see the storm building behind her eyes. She set her napkin on the table with precise calm, every movement deliberate.
“Apparently not,” she said quietly.
Jack’s mouth opened, then closed again. For once, he didn’t have a quip ready. I’d never seen him at a loss for words before. It was almost satisfying.
“What is this, Aiden?” he demanded finally, gesturing between us. “Some kind of sick joke? Is this your revenge for me going to Duncan without you, nephew?”
“I’m not petty like you,” I gritted.
“You… you have no idea what you’ve done.” He pointed a finger at my wife, just about to poke her with it when I grabbed his wrist, then rose from my chair. His eyes snapped to mine. “You knew,” he accused. “You knew she was alive.”
“This doesn’t concern you,” I said simply. “And you’re not going to mention Raven to anyone. You understand me?”
“That little huss—”
“Careful what you say, Uncle,” I said, keeping my voice low but firm. “You’re about to ruin your own anniversary dinner.”
Jack took a step closer, his voice rough. “Do you have any idea what her disappearance did to our business? Duncan has been targeting us for five years.”
“It’s no longer your business,” I pointed out.
“And what about me?” His voice rose with anger. “I had a fucking heart attack from the stress.”
Around us, conversation continued, waiters weaved between tables, oblivious. But in our corner of Le Petit Chardon, the air had gone razor-sharp.
“Uncle, I’m warning you.”
“Her death ruined our business. Gave me a fucking heart attack!”
Raven stood then, her chair scraping softly against the floor.
“Don’t you dare make this about you,” she hissed. “And I couldn’t give two shits about your heart or your stupid business, you greedy asshole. You ruined my mother’s life.”
“Your mom is a snitch and—”
“Don’t,” I warned.
Uncle Jack glared at me, but I could see the uncertainty there now.
“You have no idea why my mom did that,” Raven shot back.
“You’re taking this brat’s side over your own family?” he shouted.
“Yes. And this is your last warning, Uncle.” I stepped between them before it went further, before the past could detonate in the middle of this restaurant. My hand went to the small of her back, grounding her. “Watch how you talk to my wife.”
Jack’s hand tightened around the back of the empty chair beside us.
“I can see you two will get yourselves killed. God help you both,” he said. “Because no one else will.”
“That’s enough,” I said, my tone low, final.
Raven headed out of the restaurant and I got into my uncle’s face. “Didn’t I fucking tell you to get back to your table?”
“But—”
“No fucking buts.”
I pulled a thick stack of bills from my wallet and tossed them onto the table. The sound cracked through the tense air like punctuation.
“God help you if my wife’s crying out there,” I said, my voice low enough to make him flinch.
Then I turned and strode out of the restaurant, fury and adrenaline pushing me forward before reason could catch up.
The night hit me like a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding—cool, sharp, alive with the scent of rain and the distant hum of the city.
And there she was.
Right in front of Le Petit Chardon, standing under the awning’s golden light, her arms wrapped around herself. The sight of her—unharmed, waiting—punched the air from my lungs.
Relief swept through me so fast it almost hurt.
I exhaled slowly, forcing the edge out of my breathing, then I straightened my cuffs and stepped toward her.
“Raven,” I said, softer this time.
She lifted her head, and in her eyes, the chaos of the night still burned, a flicker of hurt and defiance.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I didn’t mean to make a scene.”
“You didn’t,” I said, reaching for her hand. “He did.”
Her shoulders loosened at that, the fight in her slowly fading. She took a small step closer until her forehead rested against my chest, her breath warm through the fabric of my shirt.
“What if your uncle—” she started.
“My uncle won’t do anything,” I cut her off gently. “He’s not the head of the Callahan family. I am.”
She went still against me, but I kept going, my hand sliding down her arm until my fingers found hers.
“Now that I know Mom’s alive, I’m scared something will go wrong and I’ll lose her before I get to her. And last time, your uncle made it clear to her that she wasn’t going to be protected.”
“Your mom will be under my protection.”
“Your uncle won’t agree.”
“It doesn’t matter. Besides, my uncle knows the rules if he steps out of line.” I paused, then softened my tone. “But he won’t. I’ll make sure of it.”
Raven tilted her head up, eyes searching mine, trying to read the truth there. After a long, silent beat, she nodded. “I’m trusting you.”
I brushed my thumb slowly over her knuckles. “We’ll save your mom,” I said. “And whatever comes after that, we face it together.”
Her lips curved faintly, a whisper of conviction in her voice. “Always together.”
I leaned down, closing the last of the distance between us, and kissed her. The city fell away along with the hum of traffic, the laughter spilling from the restaurant, the faint music drifting through the night.
There was only her: her breath, her warmth, and the promise on her lips.