Chapter 15

Dodging and blocking wasn't going to fix this. The more she hid, the tighter he'd hold on, and the more deeply he'd lodge in her daughter's head.

She needed a real, direct confrontation. Not to get something back. To sever something.

A few days later, after Magpie confirmed Damon had sent yet another shipment of luxury toys to Iris's house, she dialed his number herself.

The call picked up instantly. "Mags?"

"Tomorrow. Three p.m. Stillwater Cafe."

Magpie's voice was level. "We're going to talk. Alone."

Before he could respond, she hung up. No window for negotiation. No chance for him to rehearse his lines.

On his end, Damon stared at the phone for a second, and then the corner of his mouth rose without him meaning it to.

See. I knew she couldn't hold out.

The cold treatment, the blocked number, even the move, none of it was real. It was all a woman's way of forcing him to bow first, to come after her, to beg.

He wasn't going to. He was going to sit there like a man.

He cleared his schedule for the next day. He started planning what to wear. What to say.

He even let himself imagine that he could bring them back. Celine had run her course. The mess was cleaned up. Time to come home.

Wren missed him. And Magpie, at the end of the day, was never going to manage life without him.

He was in a good mood. He took a sip of his drink. He was already running the reunion scene in his head.

The next afternoon, Magpie got there first.

Damon showed up right on time. He'd dressed for it.

He sat down across from her and studied her face, hunting for exhaustion, longing, softness, anything. Nothing.

She was calm, like deep water.

He cleared his throat and opened.

"Mags. I've had time to think. A lot of time."

"I was a bastard. I had my head in the gutter. I did things I can't undo. That whole thing with Celine, and then I blamed you for it… I'm…"

"I know any apology I give you sounds empty. But I need you to believe me. What I feel for you hasn't changed, not for a second."

"You don't have anyone right now, either. Give me a chance. Let me make it right. Let me start again. Let me give Wren a full family. I swear, it's only you and our daughter. Forever. I won't slip, not once."

He was still inside the story where Magpie can't live without me, where every cold line and every empty chair were moves to pull him back.

Magpie finally let out a soft laugh.

"Damon. Let me correct a few things for you. One. I didn't come here to listen to a confession, and I'm not here to hand you a chance. I'm here to formally notify you that the past, as it concerns me, is over."

"Two. My life, right now, is good. I don't need your amends. I don't need your fresh start. Wren and I are better without you."

"Three." Her gaze stayed perfectly level on his. "Who told you I don't have anyone?"

Damon's expression froze. Like the sentence hadn't processed.

At that exact second, a familiar silhouette filled the cafe doorway.

Kieran. Loose gray sweater. Tall. He walked straight to their table.

He came to Magpie's side like he belonged there and rested one hand lightly on the back of her chair.

"Are you done?" He looked down at Magpie, voice warm. He didn't spare Damon a glance.

Damon stared at the two of them, the unmistakable closeness, and the blood left his face. His pupils constricted.

"Kieran. You. You two…"

His trembling finger swung from Kieran to Magpie, whose face was unmoved.

"You're brother and sister. How can you…!"

Kieran lifted his gaze to Damon. His eyes held unconcealed contempt. Cold.

The corner of his mouth turned up. Each word landed like a hammer on Damon's chest.

"Siblings? Damon, who told you we were related by blood?"

"Sorry to disappoint. I'm not."

He paused. His eyes moved to Magpie.

"I was the kid the family took in with the understanding I'd grow up beside her and, one day, stand at her side. Watching her. Waiting for her. For as long as it took."

"Clean record. Clean history. There's never been anyone else in my head, and there never will be."

"So." Kieran's gaze pinned Damon's ash-white face. "She has someone now. That's me. Are we clear?"

Stand at her side. The phrase detonated in Damon's skull.

He stared, disbelieving, at Kieran, and then at Magpie, who had allowed this entire thing to happen, who had even, subtly, shifted closer to Kieran as they spoke.

He staggered back and bumped into the table behind him. A cup clattered against a saucer.

The room spun.

For the next several days, Damon was essentially a ghost. No calls. No messages. No appearances.

Then, one afternoon, the familiar black Maybach pulled up outside Wren's preschool.

Damon watched Magpie and Kieran walk up together. He watched Kieran crouch, in one smooth, natural motion, and sweep a laughing Wren up above his head in the air. Damon's face went dark enough to storm.

"Wren." He pushed out a warm smile and stepped forward. "Daddy's here to take you home."

Wren's smile froze when she saw him. She pressed herself tighter into Kieran's neck. Her small arms locked.

That small movement was a needle driven right into his chest.

He forced the anger down. Tried to soften his voice.

"Wren. Come to Daddy. Daddy will buy you the newest doll. He'll take you for your favorite ice cream. How does that sound?"

Wren mumbled into Kieran's shoulder. "I don't want. I want Uncle and Mommy."

The smile cracked. Damon stepped in again, trying to reach for her. "Come on. I'm your father."

Kieran turned his body, blocking the hand, tone cool. "Damon. You're scaring the kid."

"Who the hell are you. Putting your hands on my daughter."

Damon had lost it. He pointed at Kieran and raised his voice at Wren.

"Wren. Look at him. He is a bad man. He's trying to take your mommy away. He—"

Wren startled. Her mouth trembled. She was about to cry.

Damon took it as an opening and doubled down. "Mags. Get out of the way. She needs to see what he is."

"Daddy's bad!"

The tiny, broken voice sliced Damon's tirade in half.