Page 126 of At First Flight
"I was terrified," he admits, breaking the silence. "The thought of losing them… it was unbearable."
I reach across the counter, placing my hand over his. "But you didn't. You fought for them, and you won. They know how much you love them."
He nods, his eyes meeting mine. "I couldn't have done it without you."
I squeeze his hand gently. "You were never alone in this." I don’t even have to tell him that the entire town signed a petition for Dean to keep the kids. I had a backup plan.
We sit in silence for a moment, sipping our drinks as the weight of the day's events gradually lift. The front door opening signals the kids' return, their laughter and chatter filling the house.
Evelyn runs into the kitchen, her eyes lighting up when she sees me. "Lila!" she exclaims, throwing her arms around me.
I hug her tightly, my heart swelling with love. "Hey, sweetheart. How was the day with Ms. Claire?"
"Good! We painted butterflies!" she says excitedly, pulling away to show me her paint-splattered hands, then immediately hugging my mom.
Oliver enters next, a shy smile on his face. "Hi, Lila."
"Hi, Oliver," I reply, ruffling his hair affectionately. "Did you have a good day?"
He nods, his eyes flicking to his father. "Dad, is everything okay?"
I cover my smile with my hand. Hearing the kids call him dad never fails to send my heart galloping, just like I know it does for Dean.
Dean kneels, pulling both kids into a hug. "Everything's perfect," he says, his voice thick with emotion. "We're all together, and that's all that matters."
The kids beam, their innocence and joy a balm to the day's earlier stress. We spend the rest of the afternoon in the backyard, the sun casting long shadows as it begins its descent. The children play, their laughter echoing, while Dean and I sit on the deck, watching them with contentment.
As evening falls, we prepare dinner together, the kitchen filled with the comforting aromas of home-cooked food. The kids chatter about their day, their stories animated and full of wonder.
After dinner, we settle in the living room, the soft glow of the fireplace casting a warm light. Evelyn curls up in my lap, her eyes heavy with sleep, while Oliver leans against his father, a book open in his hands.
Dean reads aloud, his voice steady and soothing, the words weaving a tapestry of imagination and dreams. I watch him, my heart full, knowing that this is where I belong.
Later, after the kids are tucked into bed, we find ourselves back on the deck, the night air cool and crisp. The stars twinkle above, a silent witness to our shared peace.
The evening air is warm and thick with the scent of cut grass and grilled food. It clings to my skin in the most familiar way like childhood summers and everything good that ever came with them.
I’m sitting on the porch swing, legs tucked under me, a glass of wine balanced on one thigh, gazing out onto the bay, watching the water ebb and flow with the tide. Something is sacred about this slice of life. Something that feels like it should be wrapped in glass and protected.
I look over at Dean, and our eyes catch for just a moment. It’s not long, but it’s enough to send my heart skittering against my ribs like it’s never learned rhythm. He still wants me. After everything. He sits beside me. The air between us is full of everything we haven’t said yet.
“I meant it,” I say after a long beat. “What I said in court.”
He turns toward me slowly. “I know.”
My eyes find his. “I didn’t say it for show. Or because I wanted to be the hero. I said it because I believe it. Because I’ve seen it.”
“I know,” he says again, voice rough. “You didn’t have to speak up. But you did.”
Dean looks at me like I’m standing on the edge of something. Something wide and terrifying and beautiful.
And then I lean forward.
“I love you,” I whisper, like it’s the first time I’ve said it. It’s not the first time I’ve said it to a man, but it’s the first time it feels like enough.
He pulls me into him slowly, carefully, like I might vanish if he moves too fast.
“I love you too,” he murmurs against my hair.
