5. Chapter Five Ruby #2
I couldn’t hold it in. “She’s not your assistant, Julian. She’s a kid.”
He looked at me, his hazel eyes cool. “I’m just trying to help, Ruby.”
“Help her, or control her?” I said, standing up. “She needs balance, not a corporate agenda. Where’s the time for her to just be a kid?”
Julian closed the planner with a snap. “You know how I work, Ruby. Structure is important—for her and for you. Someone in this family has to keep everything on track while you’re off campaigning.”
I flinched. “Rosie needs time to be a kid.”
“She has time. Don’t worry,” he continued, “I’ll make sure Rosie is taken care of while you’re out saving the world.”
“Julian—“
“Don’t fight,” Rosie said, her gaze bouncing between us like she was the adult in the room. “Please.”
We both turned to her, our beautiful daughter, the one true constant in the shifting sands of our lives. She stood there, small and resolute, the weight of our words pressing down on her fragile shoulders.
“Sweetie, we’re not fighting,” I said, though we all knew it was a lie. “We’re just talking.”
“Yeah,” Julian added. “Just grown-up talking.”
Rosie didn’t look convinced, but she shrugged and walked toward the door. “I’m gonna be late.”
I cleared the table, thinking about how every interaction with Julian had become a negotiation, a power play. Once, we had been partners, equals. Now, it felt like we were on opposite sides.
As they sped off, I took a deep breath and tried to steel myself for the day ahead. I had battles to fight, both in the courtroom and at home.
I had work to do. A campaign to win. This drama with Julian…it was just going to have to wait.
***
I settled into a corner of the coffee shop, spreading out my campaign notes on the small table. Alek would meet me here later, and I was munching on a lemon scone and drinking a cappuccino.
The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the hum of conversation provided a welcome contrast to the controlled atmosphere of my house. I sipped my latte, trying to focus on the upcoming debate, but the morning’s events weighed heavily on my mind.
We might not have been officially divorced, but we would be soon.
Julian hadn’t signed Rosie’s birth certificate, he hadn’t adopted her legally–it had never felt necessary.
I really hoped I wouldn’t have to use the “she’s not actually your daughter” defense with him–of course, that was something Julian knew–but if he wanted to take Rosie away, I was more than ready to fight dirty.
I told myself not to be paranoid. For all his faults, Julian loved Rosie.
The warmth of the coffee shop seeped into me, loosening the tight knot in my chest. I loved this place, with its mismatched furniture and chalkboard menus. It had character, something the new house sorely lacked. For a moment, I allowed myself to simply breathe and take in the energy around me.
The door chime rang, and I looked up thinking it might be Alek.
Then my heart slammed to a halt.
Because it wasn’t Alek. It was Kieran fucking Callahan.
He stood just inside the doorway, scanning the room like he didn’t already know exactly what he was looking for.
He had the same calm swagger as always, but time had aged him beautifully; he was leaner, stronger, more dangerous in that effortless way some men age into, like the world carved them out on purpose.
Eight years. And somehow, he looked even better.
Jesus .
I barely breathed as he moved farther inside, his gaze sliding across the room in a play at ignorance before landing on me. Our eyes met. And Kieran… damn him , he smiled. Slow, familiar, like no time had passed at all.
With that smile, a flood of memories rushed back—late nights in Southie, stolen kisses, the reckless passion of our youth.
I wasn’t ready for this.
Not today.
Kieran made his way over, weaving through the crowded room with the ease of a man who knew he belonged wherever he chose to be. I considered packing up my things and leaving, but it was too late. He was already here.
“Ruby,” he said, his voice smooth as ever. He pulled out the chair across from me and sat down, uninvited.
I straightened, my guard up. “It looks bad for me if you sit here.”
He mulled that over for a few seconds. “And how bad would it look if I made a scene?”
My eyes narrowed, trying to read his intentions.
Kieran was never one to bluff, but he also wasn’t the type to play dirty—at least not in the way that would publicly ruin someone.
Back when we were hooking up, he kept his promises.
We were discreet. He never sought me out at work.
He did everything on my terms…until he ghosted me.
Still, I was old enough to understand that people changed.
“It would look desperate,” I said, taking a calculated sip of my capuccino. “And very un-Kieran-like.”
He chuckled, a low rumble that I felt in my chest. “You always did know how to disarm me, Ruby. I’m not here to cause trouble.”
Yeah, he said he wasn’t here to cause trouble, but this man was trouble wrapped in expensive jeans and a leather jacket. And my name on his lips…I remembered how he’d said my name when we were tangled in the sheets, how he’d dragged orgasms out of me like it was a game.
“Then why are you here?” I said, keeping my voice flat.
“I’m a free man getting a cup of coffee, meeting up with an old friend. Is that illegal?”
I sighed. “Where’s your friend?”
Kieran leaned back in his chair, studying me with those blue-green eyes that had once made me forget everything else. “I’m looking at her.”
I took another sip of my coffee, letting the silence build a wall between us.
He leaned back, unfazed, a smirk playing on his lips. “I think this will look good for you. Already in talks with the Callahans. Cleaning up the streets of Boston.” He gestured around the coffee shop. “It’s been a minute.”
I froze at his words, the weight of our shared history hitting me like a tidal wave. Eight years ago felt like yesterday for a moment, but I quickly masked my emotions. I couldn’t let Kieran get under my skin.
“Some of us moved on,” I said, trying to maintain my composure.
He shrugged. “How’s the campaign going?”
I glanced at my notes, then back at him. “Busy.”
“Running for DA. That’s ambitious, even for you.”
“Is there a point to this, Kieran?”
“Does there have to be a point?”
I turned back to him, my anger starting to simmer. “What do you want?”
He leaned in, and for a moment, I thought he was going to say something important, something that would cut through the years of silence between us. But he just smiled that infuriatingly charming smile.
“You’re doing good,” he said. “With the husband, and the little girl, and the house in…what neighborhood is it again? It looks expensive.”
“You know where I live,” I remarked, cocking my head. “Charming.”
“It’s my business to keep tabs on people who describe my family as the scourge of Boston,” he shrugged.
“Fair enough,” I muttered, though it really wasn’t fair at all. “And you’re one to talk. You live in one of the fanciest buildings I’ve ever seen in my life.”
He shrugged. “Touché,” he said, the smirk never leaving his face. “But you know me, Ruby. I’m a simple guy with simple tastes.”
I had to laugh at that, despite myself. Kieran was many things, but simple had never been one of them. Complicated, conflicted, even contradictory—but never simple. The laugh dissipated some of the tension in my shoulders, and for a brief moment, it felt like we were two old friends catching up.
“I mean it,” he said, more serious now. “You’ve built quite the life for yourself.”
The compliment took me off guard. Coming from anyone else, it would have felt patronizing, but from Kieran it carried a weight of genuine respect. Maybe even a touch of envy.
“Thanks,” I said, unsure how to take his sudden sincerity—or the fact that he apparently knew exactly where I lived and how to find me
We were both silent for a beat.
Then he winced…and there it was—the reason for the sincerity, the manipulation.
“Okay, I lied. There’s a point to this. I sought you out because…look, how things ended between us, it wasn’t right.”
I looked up at him again. How things had ended between us wasn’t right, that was true.
He had blocked me on his phone, made it impossible to tell him I was pregnant.
And before all that—there were nights. God, there were nights .
The kind that rewrote you from the inside out, his hands on my hips, his lips on my throat, the way he looked at me like I was the only real thing in his world.
Maybe that’s what made it so much worse. He hadn’t just left. He’d erased it—erased us .
And then his uncle and his brother had been arrested before DA Lenta had Bellamy Callahan sent back to Ireland for a whole plethora of crimes.
Kieran had, of course, been involved. I didn’t know how—he had miraculously managed to escape arrest, and he had walked the streets of Boston free while his older brother, Tristan Callahan, ran the whole fucking show.
I didn’t know the details, but I did know that he wasn’t the kind of man who could be a good father to my daughter.
“Now that your face is everywhere, I have to deal with some of my more unwise decisions from my younger years,” Kieran continued.
The way he said it grated on me, reminding me of Julian—like my career was an inconvenience, like Why can’t you just be a good woman and shut the hell up?
The air in the coffee shop grew thicker, as if it were conspiring with the tension between us.
I set my coffee down, the ceramic making a sharp clink against the table.
“Is this the part where you apologize?” I asked, though I wasn’t not sure I wanted to hear it. An apology from Kieran would mean acknowledging everything: the sneaking away with each other, his disappearance, the child he didn’t know about. The secret that was mine alone to carry.
He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture that made him look momentarily vulnerable. “I’m sorry for leaving you in the lurch, Rubes. For disappearing like I did. You have to understand, things were…complicated.”
Complicated. That was one way to put it. Another way was fucked up beyond all reason, but I held my tongue.
“I had no choice,” he continued. “The situation with my family…I thought if I cut ties, it would protect you.”
“Protect me?” I almost laughed out loud. “From what? From whom?”
“From myself,” he said quietly. “My dad died, my brother started to spiral and I—how could I bring you into that, Ruby? You had a bright future ahead of you. You still do.”
I wanted to scream. To tell him that cutting me off hadn’t protected me from anything, that all it had done was leave me alone and confused, trying to navigate a future I hadn’t been prepared for.
That it had left me with a daughter who would one day ask about her real father, a man I couldn’t even begin to describe to her because I barely understood him myself.
But I said nothing. Kieran’s eyes held a depth of sorrow that I wasn’t prepared to confront. Was this genuine regret? Remorse? Or just another ploy to get back into my good graces now that I was in a position of power?
“Why now?” I asked, my voice steadier than I felt. “Why not tell me all this before?”
“Because before, you could afford to hate me in private,” he said. “Now, if you go after my family during your campaign, it’s all going to come out. The nights we spent together. The fact that I left you high and dry. The public loves a good scandal, Ruby.”
There it was. The real reason.
He wasn’t here to make amends; he was here to save his own skin.
“So this is a warning,” I said, leaning back in my chair. “You’re threatening to expose us if I go after the Callahans.”
“Your predecessor and my brother had something good going,” he said. “They understood each other. He didn’t need to create a crusade to clean up the streets, Ruby. He knew where to push and where to let go. If you’re smart, you’ll take the same approach.”
Anger flared in me, sharp and sudden. I stood, towering over him while he stayed seated, perfectly calm—like none of this touched him.
“So that’s it,” I said. “You want me to play nice. Turn a blind eye. Keep the backroom deals running smooth, just like Lenta did. Do you really think so little of me?”
Kieran looked up, steady. “I think very highly of you. That’s why I’m here—because I know you’re not naive. You understand how this city works.”
I shook my head, jaw clenched. “You know your brother already tried this, right? Came into my office with the same tired offer. Money, influence, connections. Told me I’d be safer if I stayed in line.”
His expression flickered—barely, but I caught it. He hadn’t known.
“So imagine how interesting it would be,” I went on, my voice dropping, “if I let Tristan know you’d already had your hands all over the new DA years before she ever ran for office.”
Now he looked at me.
“Because if you think threatening me gives you the upper hand, Kieran, maybe you should ask yourself how well that secret would play in your house.”
We stared at each other for a long beat. “I don’t think you understand--”
Then I grabbed my notes to shove them into my bag.
“I understand that justice isn’t something you can barter,” I said. “And that some of us still believe in doing what’s right.”
He sighed, grabbing what was left of my scone. I watched him, bewildered, as he bit into it, and for a split second I remembered how he used to kiss sugar off my lips over pastries. “Say yes to Marquez is really cute, by the way. Did you come up with that?”
“Why the fuck are you eating my scone?”
“Old habits,” he said through a mouthful, unperturbed by my outburst. “You never did finish your food.”
I stood there, bag slung over my shoulder, half-expecting him to duck after my outburst. But he just continued to chew, completely unfazed. It was infuriating how comfortable he always seemed, no matter the situation.
“We’re done here,” I said, turning to leave.
“Ruby,” he called after me. “Just think about it. That’s all I’m asking.”
I pushed open the door to the street, the cold Boston air biting through my clothes. It felt good; it felt real. The sounds of the city rushed in to fill the void left by our conversation, but I couldn’t shake the weight of his words.
The way things ended between us? That shit wasn’t right. Not even close.
But what really messed with my head wasn’t the past. It was the part of me that still wanted to reach across the table. To see if his lips still felt like coming home.
Because if this started again—if I let him in, even a little—it wouldn’t just wreck me.
It’d wreck everything.