Page 117 of Wistful Whispers

“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?”

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