Chapter 49
forty-nine
LUCY
It’s strange just how quickly things can shift.
A conversation. A compromise. A breath held, then released. That’s how it’s been with Emily since we had that conversation. No dramatic breakthroughs, no glittering resolutions, just a slow, cautious thawing.
Aidan and Emily have agreed on a handful of terms, as tentative and fragile as they may be. She can spend time with Isla alone now, for short visits. No overnights. No shared custody. Just small, baby steps.
Every time she takes Isla’s hand and walks out the door, something in Aidan holds still. He doesn’t say it, but I know he’s counting every second until Isla returns. His trust doesn’t come easily, but he’s trying. That effort he’s putting in is the most vulnerable kind of love.
This morning, I watched Aidan closely as he handed Isla off to Emily.
How he pretended not to hover by the window with his jaw clenched.
He played it cool, all calm nods and clipped reassurances.
But I saw the way his hands fisted at his sides like he was holding himself back from pulling Isla right back into the house.
I’ll never blame him for that. His protectiveness is part of what made me fall for him in the first place.
He doesn’t give his heart in pieces. He gives it all at once, wrapped in armor and fire, fiercely and forever.
Sometimes it’s like loving a storm—beautiful and brutal and impossible to contain—but I wouldn’t trade a second of it.
Still, I’ve had to remind him more than once that loving Isla means trusting her, too. Trusting that she’ll speak up. That she’s strong. That we’ve given her a home she feels safe enough to return to. That we’ve made space for her to grow into someone who knows she’s deeply, unwaveringly loved.
I’ve had to remind myself of that, too.
I glance at the clock. Isla’s due back in a couple hours, and Aidan’s out in the shed, pretending to fix a broken latch on the door that’s been fine for weeks. It’s his version of pacing.
I pull on my jacket, the quiet click of the door behind me marking my little rebellion against the weight of waiting. If Aidan’s going to wrestle his demons in silence, then I’m going to take charge.
I find him crouched by the shed. When he looks up, the raw edge behind his usual calm catches me again.
“Come on,” I say, slipping my hand into his to pull him up. “We need a plan to tell Isla about the baby tomorrow.”
He looks at me for a long moment, then down at our joined hands. His thumb brushes over my knuckles.
“Aye,” he says finally, pushing himself to his feet. “You’re right.”
We walk back to the house in comfortable silence, but I can feel the tension radiating from him. It’s not about the baby. I know he’s excited about that, even if he’s still wrestling with his fears about letting go of control, even just a little.
Inside, I make us tea while he settles at the kitchen table, running his hands through his hair in that way that means his mind is spinning.
“So,” I say, sliding his mug across to him. “How do we do this?”
He looks up at me, gray eyes soft despite the storm behind them. “Honestly? I have no bloody idea. With Isla, everything’s always been just the two of us. Adding you felt natural because she took to you so easily. But this…”
“This is different,” I finish for him.
“Aye. This is us telling her that everything’s changing again. Right when she’s finally getting used to having Emily around.”
I settle into the chair beside him, wrapping my hands around my mug. “What if we made it fun? Something she’ll actually remember.”
His eyes lift, curiosity sparking. “You have something in mind?”
“Maybe…” I grin. “What about a treasure hunt? We could leave little clues, leading her to a surprise that tells her about the baby.”
Aidan’s lips curve into a slow smile as his hand finds mine across the table. “Treasure hunt it is.”
I spent the better part of this morning setting up fairy-themed rhyming clues in every corner I could think of.
The first note sits beside her breakfast plate, tucked under her spoon.
Tiny wings and twinkling light, your treasure waits in morning bright. Follow the path, don’t be slow, start where the sun loves to glow.
Her face scrunches up in concentration after I read the clue out loud. “The window seat!” She runs straight to her reading nook where the morning sun always hits just right. Inside, a tiny envelope with a drawing of a fairy holding a key waits for her.
“Let’s see what this one says,” Aidan says, kneeling beside her. “Dragons nap and fairies hide, check the chest where toys reside.”
She dashes to the toy chest, lifting lids and peeking under stuffed animals, giggling when she finds a little glittery coin taped inside. Every stop is another tiny gift. A sticker of a fairy queen, a miniature wand, a chocolate star.
We finally reach the last clue, perched on the low shelf behind her storybooks.
Isla reaches behind the books, pulling out the softest, tiniest onesie. Her eyes go wide.
Aidan crouches down beside her, his voice soft and careful. “You’re going to be a big sister.”
“A baby?” Her eyes bounce to me and back to Aidan. “We’re having a baby?”
I smile, nodding. “Yes, a baby. You’re going to be the best big sister ever.”
Her mouth opens slightly in shock, then she looks at the onesie again, like it’s suddenly clicked. “Really?” she asks, her voice full of wonder.
I laugh, my heart swelling. “Really.”
She squeals, jumping up and down with excitement. “I’m gonna show the baby all my drawings! And tell them stories!”
Her enthusiasm is so pure and contagious. As she bounces around, I glance at Aidan and how he’s watching her. I can’t take my eyes off the pride in his expression, the devotion, the relief. Seeing the man who’s been carrying the world on his shoulders finally let himself breathe.
“Can I feel the baby?” Isla asks, her eyes wide with curiosity.
“Of course,” I say, guiding her little hand to rest against my stomach. “The baby’s still very tiny, so you probably won’t feel anything yet. They’re in there, growing bigger every day.”
She presses her palm flat against me with the utmost seriousness. “Hi, baby,” she whispers. “I’m Isla.”
And now I’m a blubbering mess.