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SAVANNAH

B y the time I made it through traffic and climbed the steps to our condo, I could already hear the chaos bleeding through the door. Something crashed, followed by Cal’s shout and Leo’s high-pitched giggle.

I opened the door to find Thea mid-chase, skidding barefoot across the hardwood as she tried to catch Leo, who was bolting around the kitchen island with a wooden spoon clutched in both hands like a sword.

Cal sat on the counter, flinging handfuls of cereal at our golden retriever, who was entirely too thrilled by this new game.

“Reinforcements have arrived,” I called, stepping inside and closing the door. I turned the lock, shutting out the rest of the world, and let out a long sigh before letting myself grin.

For all its chaos, this mess of a house was mine. The smell of peanut butter, the cereal on the floor, the wild noise—it meant I was home.

Thea threw a hand in the air without stopping. “Thank God. Your offspring are trying to kill me.”

“Only a mild case of attempted murder,” I murmured, setting my bag on the hook and walking straight into the fray.

Leo yelped when I scooped him off the floor, still squirming and breathless.

Cal nearly toppled the cereal box in his attempt to get to me.

I tucked one boy under each arm and spun until we were all laughing, breathless, and tangled.

Their identical faces stared up at me as they giggled, but I could see the differences and some of them made my heart pinch, because they looked too much like their dad.

For a moment, this was all that existed. Their small arms around my neck. Thea’s laughter. The smell of peanut butter and floor cleaner. This was my real life.

Thea pulled the cereal away from Cal and handed him a banana instead.

“Okay, monsters, bath in twenty. You,” she pointed at me, “need wine and full disclosure. How was day one?” She walked to the kitchen and set the cereal down, then grabbed the broom and started sweeping while Finley chased the bits of cereal around like a vacuum hound.

I managed a half smile and deposited the boys on the couch. “Fine.”

“Fine?” She echoed it like an accusation. “That’s the best you’ve got? I dealt with two pint-sized tornadoes, and you won’t even give me a scrap of gossip?”

I opened the fridge and saw there was nothing chilled. With a sigh, I grabbed the bottle from the wine rack above the counter and a glass from the cupboard and poured it warm. “It was a lot.”

“Define a lot.” Thea paused her sweeping to glance at the boys, who were engrossed in a commercial for a toy Nerf gun. Cal had a cheekful of banana and wide eyes, and I swore Leo was going to try to climb into the TV.

“It was him.” The words dropped out before I could soften them.

Thea went still. She didn’t need me to explain.

I sank against the counter and slurped the wine a bit faster than I should have, given I hadn’t eaten yet.

Traffic was a nightmare, and the boys were already having their before-bed snack.

I hated that this job meant missing things in their lives.

Her voice was a whisper. “Dominic?”

I nodded and she sank onto a barstool like her legs gave out. “No. No way. He’s in New York. Or Hong Kong. Or wherever billionaires go to disappear.”

“He’s the lead investor. Knight Holdings is acquiring majority shares.” I kept my voice low, because while the boys were young, they weren’t stupid, and I didn’t want them repeating anything in front of my father.

Her eyes widened. “He saw you?” She planted her elbows on the counter behind her and the broom handle slapped to the ground, startling Finley, who raced off. The boys chased after him, and I knew somewhere I’d find a banana peel they would pretend to play Mario Kart with later.

“Yes”

“Did he talk to you?”

“Yes.”

“Does he know?”

“No. God, no. He can’t.” My blood ran cold for a second as I refilled my glass and massaged my temple. “Christ, no…” I let the words trail out as I walked to the barstool beside her and kicked a stuffed animal out of my way. I sat down as she murmured her distaste for my news.

“Sav … My God …”

I took another drink, slower this time. The wine tasted like it had been poured from an old boot, but I knew once I had a few glasses in me, I wouldn’t care. Thank God for a friend who understood my stress and would help me get my kids in bed before I was too tipsy.

“He called me in for a post-meeting debrief. Nothing dramatic. It was all merger related.”

“But…” she prompted, and I grumbled and whined.

“But you know. God, you know…” Thea was the only one who truly knew because I’d told her everything.

Even the part where my heart was hopelessly hung up on a guy I had a one-night stand with.

It wasn’t the truest sense of the words given that he was my father’s best friend, but true enough to tear my heart out when he went to Zurich and I found out the shocking news that I was pregnant, alone, and would never be able to tell him.

Thea gave me a look that could burn holes through concrete. “You really think he’s not going to figure it out?”

“He hasn’t seen them. He doesn’t know their names. As far as he’s concerned, I’m just the new PR strategist who happened to be hired right when he was attempting a merger.” The rationalization doesn’t even sound good to me.

“Except it’s not really a coincidence, babe. He’s in town. He’s investing in your company. That means meetings. Events. Photoshoots. Media pushes.” I heard her stool squeak but didn’t see it because I refused to look up at her.

“I know.”

“Do you? Because this won’t stay quiet forever.” Her hand touched my arm. I was sure this wasn’t the juicy drama she was hoping for. She probably wanted me to come home with a story of some secretary’s fake boobs and lipstick stains on the boss’s mug or something.

I squeezed my eyes shut tighter as I massaged the bridge of my nose.

“He can’t know. Not yet.” This wasn’t in my plans.

Moving back to Seattle was a conscious choice I’d spent months preparing for.

I planned it meticulously with my father and Thea’s help.

Found this job, took support where I needed it.

But this was a whole other world of life-altering, and I wasn’t ready.

I didn’t know how to plan for something like this.

“You’re playing a dangerous game.”

“It’s not a game. It’s survival.” My glass was empty again, and I heard another crash coming from the boys’ bedroom.

Thea leaned across the counter, her voice gentler now. “You can’t keep him in the dark forever. He’s not stupid, Sav. One look at those boys and?—”

“I’ll keep my distance,” I said, cutting her off.

“You said he already called you in for a meeting.” Her eyes narrowed on me as she cocked her head. “Distance means separation, and you will be under the same roof. How do you intend to do that? And what about days I need to bring the boys to you at work for my evening classes?”

I winced and shook my head at her. “I don’t know.”

She let the silence stretch, studying me like she was weighing every word I wasn’t saying. “You okay?”

I looked at her. Really looked at her. And I wanted to say yes. I wanted to lie. But I couldn’t. “I saw his eyes and they were so full of something, Thea. He was so hungry for some response from me…”

Thea said nothing, and I felt the need to fill up the silence.

“He looked at me like I never left. And I swear, for one second, I forgot I was supposed to hate him.” We both went quiet.

I wasn’t really supposed to hate him. He did nothing wrong at all.

He was only doing his job flying to Zurich.

I pulled back and hid this from him because of my own fear of what my dad would say.

But telling myself to hate Dominic was the only thing that kept my heart from feeling what it really wanted to feel.

After a while, Thea stood. “I’ll run bath time. You look like you need a minute.”

I mouthed a thank you and watched her walk down the hall toward the boys to herd them to the bath, their laughter trailing behind.

I refilled my glass, sank into the couch, and pressed my fingers to my temples. My head throbbed. My chest ached. I knew I was balancing on a wire that was already fraying. But what was the alternative? Tell him? Let him back in? Risk everything?

After the bath, I got the boys dried and into pajamas—Leo in his faded dinosaur set, Cal in the too-small rocket ship ones he refused to give up. They each picked out a book, and we curled onto the rug in their room, a pile of pillows under my back as they sprawled across my lap.

We read. Then reread. Then argued over whether Leo got to do the monster voice or if it was Cal’s turn.

Eventually, they yawned their way into sleep, and I lingered. Leo’s lashes were a dark fringe against his cheeks, fluttering with dreams. Cal’s tiny fists clutched the edge of his blanket like he was holding on to something he refused to let go of. My chest pulled tight.

Would Dominic even care?

If he knew—if he saw them, like this, here in this quiet moment where the world finally stopped spinning—would it matter to him? Would it have mattered then?

I kissed them each on the forehead, turned off the light, and left the door cracked an inch.

In the kitchen, I opened my laptop to handle a few small tasks before bed, just the usual prep for tomorrow.

But the moment the screen loaded, I froze.

There on my calendar, blinking like a warning light, was a new event I hadn’t added myself: Strategic PR Planning Session .

Scheduled for tomorrow at 8:30 a.m. Listed attendees? Dominic Knight and three others.

I reread it twice, then a third time, as if repetition would somehow rewrite reality. But the words stayed the same—stark and unavoidable.

They expected me to walk into a closed-door meeting with him. A small group. No safety in numbers, no background noise to disappear into. Just a long table and forced conversation, and me trying to act like I wasn’t falling apart inside.

He would be there. He would look at me, speak to me, maybe even sit directly across from me. And I would have to sit there and nod, maybe smile, definitely lie. Talk deliverables and timelines while pretending I hadn’t once melted under his hands in a hotel suite four years ago.

And the worst part—he wouldn’t know the truth about the twins asleep just across town, the truth curled up in Cal’s tiny fists and Leo’s fluttering lashes. The truth I’d kept from him to protect a life I built from scratch, one I wasn’t ready to jeopardize.

I shut the laptop halfway, heart stuttering.

For a second, I thought I might be sick.

Then I opened it again and just stared, because no matter how much I wanted to, I couldn’t pretend this away.

This wasn’t just work anymore. It hadn’t been from the moment I saw his name on that whiteboard. And tomorrow, everything would change.

My stomach twisted. I reached for my wine glass, but it was empty.

I closed the laptop completely this time and just sat there in the silence of my too-small kitchen, heart racing.

I heard Thea in her room thumping around and thought about telling her, but I knew what she’d say.

“Rip the bandage off and be done with it.”

But if I did that, my heart would need more than a bandage.

I’d need a tourniquet.