Chapter sixty-three
rory
Theo and Isla are walking ahead of us, their voices overlapping in that chaotic, excited way that only kids seem to manage, bouncing from one topic to the next without needing to finish a single sentence properly, and I find myself watching them more than I should, not really listening to what they’re saying, just…
watching. Because it looks easy, like this has always been normal.
And it hits me that this is the part that actually matters.
Freya walks beside me, close enough that the back of her hand brushes mine every now and then, neither of us pulling away, neither of us making a thing of it, and I can feel the shift in us from the last few days, the way everything has slowed slightly, steadied, like we’ve stopped running at something and started standing in it instead.
“We need to talk to them,” I say quietly, my voice low enough that it doesn’t carry ahead.
She doesn’t hesitate. “I know.”
“Soon,” I add, because the longer we leave it, the more it feels like we’re avoiding it.
“Yeah,” she says softly.
A few steps pass, the gravel crunching under our feet, the kids’ laughter drifting back toward us, and I can feel the weight of what we’re about to do settling properly now.
“They come first,” she says.
“Always,” I reply, without even thinking about it.
Because that’s not something I need to consider.
“That doesn’t change,” she adds.
“It won’t.”
And I mean that too. But then she gestures slightly between us, subtle, barely there, and says quietly, “But this matters as well.”
I look at her then, because that’s the part that scares me slightly. Not her or us. But getting it wrong.
“It does,” I say.
And I don’t look away, because I need her to see that I mean it, that this isn’t something I’m saying lightly.
She nods, like that’s what she needed. “Okay.”
By the time we reach the house, my chest feels heavier than it did when we started walking.
Isla is halfway through taking her shoes off when I step inside, her bag already dropped in the hallway like always, her voice running ahead of her as she starts telling me about her day, something about a spelling test and someone crying and a sticker she nearly got but didn’t, and I listen, properly listen, because this is the bit I don’t ever want to lose.
“Snack?” she asks, already heading toward the kitchen.
“Go on then,” I say, grabbing something and handing it to her.
She takes it and wanders into the living room, and I follow more slowly this time, my mind catching up with me again.
Don’t overthink it. Just be honest.
“Come sit with me for a minute, bug,” I say, nodding toward the sofa.
She stops mid-step and looks at me immediately. Mum gives me an approving nod from the kitchen, knowing exactly what I’m about to do.
“That sounds serious Daddy.”
“It’s not,” I say, smiling slightly. “Just a chat.”
She studies me for a second like she’s trying to work out if I’m lying, then shrugs and climbs onto the sofa, tucking her legs underneath her. I sit beside her, turning slightly so I’m facing her, not crowding her, just… there.
“Okay,” she says. “What is it?”
I take a breath, slower this time, letting it out before I start. “You know Freya,” I say.
She nods. “Yeah.”
“And Theo.”
“Yeah.”
“They’ve… become important to me.”
Her fingers still slightly on the wrapper in her hand. She’s listening now, intently.
“Freya makes me really happy,” I add, keeping it simple, because it needs to be simple.
She tilts her head. “Like… really happy?”
“Yeah,” I say quietly. “Really happy.”
There’s a pause. “Do you love her?”
Straight in. No hesitation. I let out a small breath. “Yeah,” I say. “I do.”
She looks down at her hands then, her shoulders dip just slightly. That quiet processing. “Will she leave?”
I shift slightly closer. “Hey,” I say gently. “Look at me.” She does. And I make sure I don’t rush this. “She’s not going anywhere,” I say, holding her gaze. “Not if I can help it.”
Her eyes search mine, like she’s testing that, weighing it. “And you?”
“I’m definitely not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me forever, bug.”
Something settles slightly in her. “Okay,” she says.
She leans into me then, resting her head briefly against my shoulder, and I don’t move, just let her have that.
“I like her,” she murmurs.
Relief moves through me slowly. “I’m glad.”
“And Theo.”
“He’s a good kid.”
She nods. “Does that mean we’ll see them more?”
“Yeah,” I say. “If that’s okay with you.”
She nods again. “It is.”
And just like that, it’s done.