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“You okay?” he asks, and there’s a tenderness in his voice now, a carefulness that hadn’t been there before.

I nod, not trusting my voice yet. I’m more than okay.

I’m still here.

Still Anna.

I didn’t switch, and he didn’t exactly take it easy on me.

He pulls me against his chest, his arms wrapping around me, protective and possessive at once. “You were amazing,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to my temple. “So responsive. So perfect.”

I should tell him now. I should confess that I’m not who he thinks I am. But I’m greedy for these moments of unguarded intimacy and for this side of him I’ve never been allowed to see.

So instead, I curl into him, letting my head rest on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. “I love you,” I whisper, and I mean it with every fiber of my being.

His arms tighten around me, and he presses another kiss to my hair. “I love you too, Mads,” he says, and though I know the name is wrong, the love in his voice is real.

That’s enough for now. Tomorrow, we’ll talk. Tomorrow, I’ll tell him everything—how I stayed present, how I didn’t switch, how this might be the beginning of real healing.

Tomorrow.

But for tonight, I’ll let myself have this—the afterglow, the closeness, the knowledge that I am whole and present in my own body, my own love story.

I am Anna, and I am finally, finally free.

TWENTY

February

DOMHNALL

I pull into the garage,exhausted from back-to-back meetings that stretched well past five. The house is quiet as I kill the engine, and Anna's car is missing from its usual spot. It's good she's out—I feel like she's barely left the house over the last couple of months. Still, I hope she's home soon. I've come to look forward to our dinners together and an occasional glass of wine on the patio if the weather holds.

I chuckle to myself as I walk into the house. Who knew Domhnall Callaghan could become so domesticated?This new life is so far from my old one, sometimes it feels like maybe, just maybe, someday I'll be able to forget?—

On your knees, dog!

I grimace, my hand squeezing into a fist. Other days, not so much.

But then a smell from the kitchen draws me out of the dark memories. I follow my nose to the kitchen, and my clenched fist releases.

There she is. My Anna—my salvation—humming softly as she stirs something on the stove that smells divine. Her hair is piled loosely on top of her head, a few tendrils escaping to frame her face. She's wearing one of my old T-shirts that hangs to mid-thigh. She's so fucking beautiful it hurts my chest. I still don't think she comprehends what it means for her to be here for me to come home to every day. Or how she's transformed my whole feckin' life.

She turns, smile bright. "You're home! Just in time—the risotto's almost done."

I swallow hard, then my feet are taking me toward her, drawn to her like a magnet as I ever was.

"Hey, babe." I lean in from behind to kiss the back of her neck, which makes her shiver and turn toward me. "Where's your car?"

"Oh." She looks a little startled, then waves the wooden spoon she's been stirring with. "I had to take it into the shop. I got into a minor fender bender the other day."

I frown. "Why didn't you tell me about it? What happened?"

She breathes out hard and sets the spoon down carefully, switching off the burner before turning around to face me. "To be honest, I don't know. Mads could've been driving. I just found the bumper all banged up. It was last month."

"Last month? Why didn'tyoutell me?" How the fuck are there still things going on in my family that I don't know about?

"Because I wanted to handle it myself." Then she waves a hand, brushing it away. "But don't worry about that. There's something I need to tell you."