Chapter 10
I didn't answer him that night.
Instead, I flew back to London the next morning and held my children so tightly they squirmed.
"Mummy, you're squishing me!" Lucas protested.
"Good," I whispered into his hair. "That's how much I love you."
But Dominic's question echoed in my mind for days.
Will you ever let me be their father?
A week passed. Then two.
Dominic didn't call, didn't push. True to his word, a discrete security team appeared in our neighborhood, professional and invisible.
Then one afternoon, I was picking the twins up from nursery when Lily tugged my sleeve.
"Mummy, who's that man?"
I followed her pointing finger.
Dominic stood across the street, a stuffed elephant in one hand and a paper bag in the other. He was watching, not approaching.
When he saw me look, he raised his hand in a small wave, looking utterly unsure of himself.
This man who commanded boardrooms and bent markets to his will — standing on a London sidewalk like a lost boy.
"Stay here," I told the twins, and crossed the street.
"What are you doing here?"
"I brought something for them," he said, lifting the bag. "Sicilian cannoli from that bakery you used to love."
"You flew five thousand miles to deliver pastries?"
"I flew five thousand miles because I couldn't stand being that far from them anymore." His voice cracked. "From any of you."
I stared at him.
"You can't just show up—"
"Mummy!" Lucas had escaped and was tugging at my coat. "Is he the elephant man?"
Dominic crouched down immediately, putting himself at Lucas's eye level.
"Hi," he said softly, offering the stuffed elephant. "I'm... a friend of your mum's."
Lucas studied him with those dark eyes — his father's eyes — head tilted.
"You look sad," Lucas announced. "Do you want a hug? Mummy says hugs fix everything."
Something shattered in Dominic's expression.
He looked up at me, silently begging.
I swallowed hard and gave the smallest nod.
Dominic opened his arms, and Lucas walked right into them.
I watched the most powerful man I'd ever known press his face into his son's hair and shake with silent tears.
Lily, never one to be left out, wandered over.
"Me too," she demanded, arms up.
Dominic scooped her up with his free arm, holding both children against his chest as if they were made of glass.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, though the words were meant for me. "I'm so sorry for every minute I missed."
That night, after the twins were asleep, Dominic and I sat on opposite ends of my sofa.
The silence between us was heavy with four years of unsaid things.
"I'm not ready to forgive you," I said finally.
"I know."
"What you did to me — what you believed about me — it broke something fundamental."
"I know that too."
"But the twins deserve to know their father." I looked at him. "If you're going to be in their lives, it has to be real. Consistent. You can't disappear when it gets hard."
"I will never disappear again," he said. "I will crawl through glass for them. For you."
"Start with just being a good father," I said. "We'll see about the rest."
He nodded, pressing his lips together hard, fighting for composure.
"Can I ask you something?" he said.
"What?"
"When you left four years ago — did any part of you still love me?"
I looked at the wall.
"Yes," I admitted. "And that's what made it hurt so much."
"And now?"
I finally met his eyes.
"Now I don't know what I feel. And I need you to be okay with that."
"I am," he said. "However long it takes."
Instead, I flew back to London the next morning and held my children so tightly they squirmed.
"Mummy, you're squishing me!" Lucas protested.
"Good," I whispered into his hair. "That's how much I love you."
But Dominic's question echoed in my mind for days.
Will you ever let me be their father?
A week passed. Then two.
Dominic didn't call, didn't push. True to his word, a discrete security team appeared in our neighborhood, professional and invisible.
Then one afternoon, I was picking the twins up from nursery when Lily tugged my sleeve.
"Mummy, who's that man?"
I followed her pointing finger.
Dominic stood across the street, a stuffed elephant in one hand and a paper bag in the other. He was watching, not approaching.
When he saw me look, he raised his hand in a small wave, looking utterly unsure of himself.
This man who commanded boardrooms and bent markets to his will — standing on a London sidewalk like a lost boy.
"Stay here," I told the twins, and crossed the street.
"What are you doing here?"
"I brought something for them," he said, lifting the bag. "Sicilian cannoli from that bakery you used to love."
"You flew five thousand miles to deliver pastries?"
"I flew five thousand miles because I couldn't stand being that far from them anymore." His voice cracked. "From any of you."
I stared at him.
"You can't just show up—"
"Mummy!" Lucas had escaped and was tugging at my coat. "Is he the elephant man?"
Dominic crouched down immediately, putting himself at Lucas's eye level.
"Hi," he said softly, offering the stuffed elephant. "I'm... a friend of your mum's."
Lucas studied him with those dark eyes — his father's eyes — head tilted.
"You look sad," Lucas announced. "Do you want a hug? Mummy says hugs fix everything."
Something shattered in Dominic's expression.
He looked up at me, silently begging.
I swallowed hard and gave the smallest nod.
Dominic opened his arms, and Lucas walked right into them.
I watched the most powerful man I'd ever known press his face into his son's hair and shake with silent tears.
Lily, never one to be left out, wandered over.
"Me too," she demanded, arms up.
Dominic scooped her up with his free arm, holding both children against his chest as if they were made of glass.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, though the words were meant for me. "I'm so sorry for every minute I missed."
That night, after the twins were asleep, Dominic and I sat on opposite ends of my sofa.
The silence between us was heavy with four years of unsaid things.
"I'm not ready to forgive you," I said finally.
"I know."
"What you did to me — what you believed about me — it broke something fundamental."
"I know that too."
"But the twins deserve to know their father." I looked at him. "If you're going to be in their lives, it has to be real. Consistent. You can't disappear when it gets hard."
"I will never disappear again," he said. "I will crawl through glass for them. For you."
"Start with just being a good father," I said. "We'll see about the rest."
He nodded, pressing his lips together hard, fighting for composure.
"Can I ask you something?" he said.
"What?"
"When you left four years ago — did any part of you still love me?"
I looked at the wall.
"Yes," I admitted. "And that's what made it hurt so much."
"And now?"
I finally met his eyes.
"Now I don't know what I feel. And I need you to be okay with that."
"I am," he said. "However long it takes."