35. Marcella
thirty-five
Marcella
A Few Weeks Later
The elevator hums beneath us as it climbs, the faint buzz filling the space between us.
Seamus leans against the wall, one knee bent, hands deep in the pockets of his jacket. The collar’s turned up, more habit than style.
He doesn’t say anything, just watches me out of the corner of his eye like he’s waiting for a signal.
“What?” I finally ask, lifting a brow.
He points to my chest, slow and casual. “You got sauce on your cardigan.”
I glance down to see the faintest speck of tomato right in the middle of my boob. “The only reason you noticed is because of the placement.”
“What can I say?” He smirks.
My chest does this funny little flutter thing, like my heart’s trying to stutter-step out of time. Six months in and I still feel like I'm in junior high around him.
When we step into the condo, I drop my clutch on the counter, kick off my shoes with a sigh of relief and tug my sweater over my head. Seamus trails in behind me, shrugging out of his jacket and laying it over the back of the couch.
He doesn’t say anything. I turn and catch him watching me again.
“What now?” I ask, teasing this time.
He tilts his head, lazy, amused. “You know, you get this look of contentment after spending time with your family.”
“Oh yeah?” I cross my arms over my tank top, grinning.
“ Yeah .” He moves closer, closing the space between us in slow, deliberate steps. “You're all soft around the edges. Like you might let someone kiss you if they’re lucky enough.”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t get used to it.”
“Oh, I’m already addicted.” He’s in front of me now, warm and close. When his hands find my hips, I don’t stop him. I don’t want to.
“They love you,” I murmur. “Even Rosa. Which honestly makes me suspicious.”
He nuzzles my neck. “She told me if I ever hurt you, she’d bury me in a paella pan.”
“That tracks…” I bite my lip. “Because it doesn't make a lick of sense.”
His mouth curves into something sly and knowing. “Right? Then she gave me a second helping of arroz negro and called me mijo , so I think I passed whatever convoluted test it was.”
“She’s ruthless,” I whisper, curling a finger into the collar of his T-shirt. “And very, very invested in my love life.”
“I noticed.” He kisses the edge of my jaw, soft and slow. “I think they’re all trying to will a wedding into existence with every course.”
“At my age, I’m trying not to take it personally.” My voice comes out breathier than I intend.
He pulls back just enough to look at me. “Marriage doesn’t scare me.”
“Oh?” I lift a brow. “Even though I'm ancient? Or, I could crush you with a well-placed motion in limine?”
He leans back in, lips brushing mine as he murmurs, “I want things with you I never thought about before.”
I go still, his words winding around something fragile and unspoken inside me.
“Don’t act like you’re not into it.” He doesn’t give me time to overthink it before he kisses me again, deeper this time. Familiar. A promise and a question all in one.
I slide my hands under his shirt, fingers skating over the smooth lines of his back. “I plead the Fifth.”
“So…” He tugs me against him. “You think I’m worth keeping around forever?”
I look up at him. His face is too close. Too beautiful. I nod.
“ Yeah .”
“Good.” He kisses my forehead and leads me to the couch. “Before I fuck you until dawn, do you want to talk about it?”
I tuck myself into his side. “About what?”
“You got real quiet after dessert.” He gives me a look. “Your mom kept glancing between us like she knew something I don't.”
I wince. “She means well.”
“I know she does. Something’s on your mind. I can feel it.” He pulls me against him, my back to his front. I tuck my legs under me and stare out the window at the lights of the city.
“It’s not one thing,” I admit after a long moment. “It’s a lot of things.”
His arm bands around my shoulder. “Start somewhere.”
“Your meeting with Caldwell changed something for me.” I lean against him.
He goes still.
“Not in a bad way,” I say quickly. “It made me realize how I've spent the last fifteen years looking at the world in absolutes. Right and wrong. Justice and revenge. Maybe that perspective served me in the courtroom. In life it’s messier.”
Seamus nods slowly. “Yeah. It is.”
“You’re still here. Still standing.” I look up at him. “You didn’t run from any of it.”
He laughs, low and soft. “I wanted to. More than once. I guess I realized saving my career meant figuring out who I want to be.”
“And?”
Something in his eyes pulls at a thread I didn’t know was unraveling.
“I want to be someone who wakes up beside the woman he loves and doesn’t ever question if he deserves her.
I want to be a surgeon who sees the people behind the scans.
I want to be a man who learns from his mistakes instead of hiding behind them. ”
I squeeze my eyes shut for a second before looking back at him.
“You definitely sound like someone I want to keep around forever.” I kiss the bottom of his chin
We sit in silence for a moment, letting the truth settle around us like dust.
“There’s something else.” I thread my fingers through his.
He rests his head on mine. “Yeah?”
“I’ve been thinking about my career. The kind of lawyer I am. These past few months have been…after everything with Miranda, and Caldwell…” I swallow hard. “I don’t know if I can keep doing what I'm doing. At least not in the same way.”
He flutters kisses into my hair. He never rushes me.
So I say it. “I’ve spent the last decade feeling pretty fucking altruistic. Giving families a voice. Holding people accountable. Lately I wonder if I’ve been so focused on winning I stopped thinking about the collateral damage.”
His fingers still.
My thoughts whoosh out unfiltered. “I’ve been rethinking everything. Who I help. Why I help them. If the good I do is enough to justify the hurt I sometimes leave behind.”
“Do you think you want to quit?” Seamus squeezes his arms around me.
I shake my head, eyes fixed on the grain of the coffee table. “No. Maybe pivot. I don’t know to what. Something quieter. I'd rather build than tear down.”
“The woman who stands in court and cuts through bullshit with a glance and makes grown men quake in thousand-dollar suits doesn’t need to go away.” His hand slides up, until it rests below my heart. “If you want to grow, I think it's brave. Allowable.”
I turn slightly, craning to look at him. “Really?”
“Yes.” He nuzzles my temple. “The mess with Caldwell made me question everything about this neurosurgery program. It's so demanding.”
“You're telling me.”
He lifts a shoulder. “I don’t want to be a guy who wakes up at forty with a white coat and a nameplate with no life. No home of my own with no wife and kids to come home to.”
His words settle into the hollow behind my ribs. I blink, already a little breathless from the idea he's referring to me. Our children.
“I want a future, baby,” he says softly. “I want all of it—with you.”
I swallow hard. My fingers tighten around his forearm. “Seamus…”
He doesn't let me interrupt. “I know the next two years are going to be hell and if you're willing to stick by me, when I’m done and I can finally breathe again, I want us to get married and get to work on some kids.”
“I’ll be forty.” My chest twists.
“Yeah.” His thumb brushes slow circles over my lip. “I’ve been thinking. Not in a panicked way. Would you want to talk to Dr. Madison about fertility options? Not alone, I mean. We'd do it together.”
My eyes sting suddenly. Until Seamus, I'd given up hope to have my own kids. “Really?”
“Of course.” He sighs happily. “If it helps us get a head start on a future we both want, I’m all in.”
I turn my face into his arm. Breathe him in. His scent. His promise. His everything. “You mean it?”
“With all of my heart.”
We sit there in the quiet for a while. Then, he speaks again, a little rougher. “There’s something else I’ve been thinking about.”
“What?” I twist enough to glance at him over my shoulder.
His eyes meet mine. “Going public.”
“But, Caldwell…” My heart skips. “Are you sure?”
He nods. “We have ceasefire. I’m tired of pretending I’m not in love with you.”
I can’t speak. This is huge.
“I want people to know who you are to me,” he says. “Marcella Delgado. My girlfriend. My partner. The woman I love. Who stood by me when it would’ve been easier to walk away.”
His expression is open, earnest. No fear. No regret.
“I’d like that.” I press my lips to his. “I’d really like that.”
His mouth brushes mine, gentle and firm. “Good. Because I’m done hiding.”
“So am I.” My fingers slide through his hair as I pull him closer.
His voice drops to a hush. “We’re going to figure this out. All of it. You and me.”
“I know,” I whisper back. “We already are.”
We sit for a while longer, curled up together. Eventually, he moves me off his lap and stands. “Come to bed with me.”
I follow him into the bedroom, shedding clothes like old skin, the last of the day slipping off my shoulders. He lifts the covers and I slide in, back to his front, his chest pressed warm against my spine like the most natural thing in the world. The way we fall asleep every single night.
His arm wraps around my waist. A sigh against my neck. “I love you.”
It’s not a declaration anymore. It’s a heartbeat. I thread my fingers through his, settling our joined hands against my stomach. “I love you too.”
He kisses the back of my shoulder, then my neck, then rests there—breathing me in like I’m oxygen.
No vows. No fireworks.
Only the soft weight of his arm, the press of his chest, the warmth of his body.
Love isn’t loud in this room.
It’s steady.
It’s ours.