Page 60 of Single Mom's Daddies
I let go of Saffron’s hand slowly. Not because I want to, but because if I don’t, I’ll start saying things I shouldn’t. Things likeI’m sorryorI’ll fix this. Things likeI didn’t know, but I should have.
None of that changes the fact that we missed eight years of her life. That we were walking around this estate thinking we knew what mattered, while our daughter was out there fighting a heart condition without a single one of us knowing she existed.
I step back and sit again. And Saffron just stands there. Not apologizing. Not shrinking. I respect the hell out of that.
“This changes everything,” Victor says finally.
“It doesn’t have to,” Saffron replies. “I’m not trying to shake things up.”
“It already has.”
I ask the question none of us have wanted to say out loud. “Do you want us involved?”
Saffron blinks. “What?”
“You said you weren’t asking for anything. But do youwantus in her life?”
Another pause. “She deserves to know you.”
We sit with that.
“She doesn’t know anything about you. And you’ve already got another daughter?—”
“She’s not a replacement for Mila,” I interrupt. “They’re both ours. Equally.”
Saffron studies me for a moment. I don’t look away.
“She’s coming here anyway,” I remind her. “Even if this hadn’t come out, she’d be living in the cottage when she’s well enough. This is her home, Saffron. Just as it’s Mila’s and Alex’s. She is ours, and we will act accordingly.”
She nods once. “What she needs is peace. Not a bunch of men swarming her to be her father when she gets here. She needs a chance to breathe. To grow up without being afraid she’ll run out of time.”
My chest hurts when she says that. What time will we get with her? We’ve already lost eight years. With her condition…fuck. Victor lowers himself into the chair across from me like the truth finally caught him.
Nikolai finally speaks again. “You told us the truth.”
“She’ll need to hear it from me,” she says. “But I won’t lie.”
“None of us will,” he vows.
“You said something earlier,” I say. “About not asking for anything.”
She nods once.
“Consider this to be us asking. For the chance to be in her life. We won’t swarm. We don’t want to overwhelm our child who’s fighting for her life. We want to be present. That’s all.”
She’s quiet. And for the first time since she walked into the den, I see her mouth twitch. The barest start of a smile. “Okay.”
15
VICTOR
She’s exhausted.
It’s in the way she stands—weight shifted too far to one side, arms hanging limp, jaw loose. Ivy is ours. All of ours. And even now, as the silence in the den settles around us like dust, she’s still standing there like she owes us more than that.
But I don’t want anything else from her tonight. What I want is for her to sleep. With us.
I take a careful step forward—not fast, not looming. Just enough to close the space without making it feel like a threat. She’s been vulnerable tonight. No need to make that worse.
