Page 24

"That's not safe?—"

"I'm not asking." I cross my arms. "Either find us a real house where Conor can have some normalcy, or I'll go home without you, and all this shit."

Declan's jaw tightens, but he nods. "I know a place. My mother's old townhouse in Blackrock. It's under a different name. We can move there today."

A deep relief fills me. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet. I'll still be there."

"Fine."

"And you tell Conor today. Before we go."

I nod, feeling sick. "I will."

He reaches for me again, and this time I let him pull me close. His kiss feels soft, nothing like the desperate passion of last night.

"Last night meant something," he says against my lips. "Don't pretend it didn't."

Before I can respond, Conor calls from the living room. "Mom! The WIFI is off!"

"Time to talk to our son," Declan says.

I take a deep breath and follow him into the living room.

Conor sits cross-legged on the floor, flicks the remote trying to get it to connect. He looks up at us. "What?"

I sit on the couch, patting the space beside me. "Come here, honey. We need to talk about something important."

Conor climbs up next to me, eyes darting between Declan and me.

"Remember how you always ask about your dad?" I begin.

He nods.

"I told you he lived far away, and that was true." I take his small hand in mine. "But he didn't know about you. He left before I found out I was pregnant."

Conor's brow furrows. "He didn't want me?"

"No, that's not it," I say quickly. "He didn't know you existed. If he had known, he would have wanted to meet you."

"How do you know?"

I look at Declan, who stands by the door, letting me lead. "Because he's here now, and he does want to know you."

Conor's eyes widen. "Here? Where?"

My throat tightens. "Declan is your dad, Conor."

He stares at Declan.

"You're my dad?" he finally asks.

Declan nods, moving to kneel in front of the couch. "Yes."

"Where were you?"

"I was in different countries. Spain, France, England."