Updated Oct 29, 2025 • ~9 min read
Three days after the custody hearing, Jane was alone with Clara when she heard the knock.
Gabriel had gone back to Seabrook Bay that morning. The resort project was finally wrapping up and he needed to close it out properly. He’d been reluctant to leave, but Jane had insisted.
“I need to learn how to be alone without being lonely,” she’d told him. “Just for a few days. I’ll be fine.”
Now, at seven p.m., Clara fed and bathed and nearly asleep, Jane wondered if she’d been too optimistic.
The farmhouse felt too big. Too quiet. Too full of shadows.
The knock made her jump.
She checked the security camera Gabriel had installed. Saw him standing on the porch holding takeout bags and—
Jane smiled despite herself.
She opened the door.
Gabriel stood there looking uncertain. Hopeful. Holding Chinese food in one hand and a stuffed elephant in the other.
“Hi,” he said.
Jane didn’t speak. Just reached out, grabbed his shirt, and pulled him inside.
The door closed behind them.
“I know you said you needed space,” Gabriel started. “But I got to Seabrook Bay and realized I couldn’t stay away. Not tonight. So I drove back and—” He held up the bags. “I brought food. And this—” The elephant. “For Clara. It’s stupid, I know, but I saw it and—”
Jane kissed him.
Hard and desperate and full of three days of missing him.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Gabriel stared at her.
“So—not mad I came back?”
“Not even a little bit.” Jane took the takeout bags. “Clara’s almost asleep. Help me put her down and then we eat.”
They went upstairs together. Gabriel set the stuffed elephant in Clara’s crib while Jane laid her down. The baby grabbed the elephant immediately, snuggled it, and was out.
“She likes it,” Jane whispered.
“Everyone likes elephants.”
They went back downstairs. Jane set out the food—lo mein, kung pao chicken, spring rolls, everything she’d mentioned craving weeks ago and Gabriel had apparently remembered.
They ate at the kitchen table. Comfortable silence.
“How was Seabrook Bay?” Jane asked.
“Empty. Quiet. Wrong.” Gabriel set down his chopsticks. “I kept thinking about you here. About Clara. About how I’d rather be fighting with you than be peaceful without you.”
“We’re not fighting.”
“You know what I mean.” He reached across the table, took her hand. “Being away from you feels wrong now. Like I’m missing something essential.”
Jane squeezed his hand. “I felt it too. The space I thought I needed just felt like—absence.”
“So maybe we stop pretending we need distance?”
“Maybe we do.” Jane stood, moved around the table to sit beside him. “Gabriel, I’ve been thinking. About what you said. About eventually.”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t want to wait for eventually.” Jane took a breath. “I’m terrified. Constantly. That this is too good. That you’ll change. That I’ll mess this up. But I’m more terrified of wasting time being scared.”
Gabriel turned to face her fully. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I love you. I trust you. And I want—” She struggled for the words. “I want this to be real. Not just trauma bonding or gratitude or convenience. Real.”
“It is real. It’s been real since I found you on that beach.”
“Then let’s stop pretending it’s temporary. Stop keeping you in the guest room. Stop acting like you’re just helping out.” Jane’s voice strengthened. “Move in. Properly. Be part of this family officially. Not just Clara’s uncle and my—whatever we’ve been calling this. But my partner. My person.”
Gabriel’s eyes were bright. “You’re sure?”
“Terrified but sure. Is that a thing?”
“It’s definitely a thing.” He pulled her close. “I’ll move in. Tomorrow if you want.”
“Tomorrow feels too fast. But—soon. This week.” Jane rested her forehead against his. “I’m done running. From David. From happiness. From you.”
“Good. Because I’m not going anywhere.”
They finished eating. Cleaned up together. Moved to the couch.
And talked.
About everything. About the trial and David’s sentencing and what came next legally. About Gabriel’s work and whether he could operate fully remote. About Clara’s development and baby milestones and whether they’d need a bigger house eventually.
About the future. The real, tangible, possible future.
“What do you want?” Gabriel asked around midnight. “Long term. Dream life. What does it look like?”
Jane thought. “Peace. Boring, ordinary peace. Wake up next to you. Watch Clara grow up safe and loved. Maybe—” She stopped.
“Maybe what?”
“Maybe more kids someday. Not now. But—eventually. If you want that.”
Gabriel went very still. “You’d want that? More children?”
“Clara shouldn’t be an only child. And you—” Jane looked at him. “You’d be an amazing father. You already are, basically. I see the way you are with her. The way you hold her. Talk to her. Love her.” Her voice caught. “She’s lucky to have you.”
“I’m lucky to have both of you.” Gabriel pulled her closer. “And yes. I’d want more kids. With you. When we’re ready.”
“So we’re talking marriage. Kids. The whole thing.”
“If that’s what you want, yeah. The whole thing.” Gabriel kissed her temple. “But no pressure. No timeline. We figure it out as we go.”
“What do you want? Your dream life.”
“This. You. Clara. Maybe more kids like you said. A home that feels safe.” Gabriel was quiet for a moment. “I spent two years after Serena left convincing myself I didn’t want any of it. That I was better off alone. Then I found you and realized—I do want it. All of it. Just with the right person.”
“Am I the right person?”
“You’re the only person.” He said it simply. Like it was obvious. Like there had never been any doubt.
Jane felt tears building. Happy tears. Healing tears.
“I’m still broken,” she warned. “Still have nightmares. Still panic sometimes. Still—”
“Still human. Still healing. Still the strongest person I know.” Gabriel wiped a tear from her cheek. “You’re not broken, Jane. You’re surviving. And I’m honored to survive alongside you.”
They talked until two a.m. Until three. Until the sky started lightening outside the windows.
About Jane’s grandmother and Gabriel’s mother. About childhoods and first loves and all the ways they’d been hurt before finding each other.
About David’s trial—scheduled for four months from now. Whether Jane would have to testify again. How to protect Clara from media attention.
About Vivienne. Whether Jane would ever speak to her sister again. Whether forgiveness was possible or even necessary.
“I don’t think I can forgive her,” Jane said. “Not yet. Maybe not ever.”
“That’s okay. Forgiveness isn’t required.”
“But she helped us. At the trial. She told the truth when she could have lied.”
“And that was good. Brave, even. But it doesn’t erase years of betrayal.” Gabriel’s voice was gentle. “You get to decide what relationship you have with her. Including none at all.”
“None at all sounds right. For now at least.”
“Then that’s what we do.”
They talked about the Astor Foundation. Whether Jane would rejoin the board or start fresh somewhere else. About her grandmother’s charitable legacy and how to honor it properly.
About Gabriel’s architecture work. Whether he’d keep traveling or settle down. What projects excited him. What he’d given up to be with her.
“I didn’t give up anything that mattered,” Gabriel said firmly. “The traveling was just running. This—you, Clara, actually building a life—this matters.”
Jane laid her head on his chest. Listened to his heartbeat. Steady. Reliable. Real.
“Tell me something,” she said quietly. “Something you’ve never told anyone.”
Gabriel was silent for a long moment. “I was relieved when Serena left.”
Jane looked up at him. “What?”
“I was devastated, obviously. But underneath—I was relieved. Because I’d been trying so hard to be who she wanted. Ambitious. Aggressive. More like David. And it was exhausting.” Gabriel’s voice was raw. “When she left, I could stop pretending. Could just be myself. And I realized—I didn’t actually want her. I wanted to want her. Because she was supposed to be perfect for me.”
“But she wasn’t.”
“No. She wasn’t.” He looked at Jane. “You are. Completely wrong on paper—my brother’s widow, trauma survivor, single mother. But perfect in reality.”
“I’m not perfect—”
“Perfect for me. There’s a difference.” Gabriel smiled. “You make me want to be better. Not different. Just—more myself. That’s everything.”
Jane kissed him. Soft and slow and full of promise.
“Move in tomorrow,” she said when they pulled apart. “Not next week. Tomorrow. I don’t want to wait.”
“You sure?”
“Completely. Whatever you need from Seabrook Bay, we’ll figure it out. But I want you here. With us. Starting now.”
“Then I’m here. Starting now.”
They fell asleep on the couch as dawn broke. Wrapped around each other. No more space between them.
When Clara’s crying woke them at seven, they stumbled upstairs together. Gabriel changed her diaper while Jane made a bottle. They worked in tandem. Easy. Natural.
Like they’d been doing this forever.
Like this was always meant to be their life.
After Clara was fed and happy, playing on her mat with the new elephant, Gabriel pulled Jane close.
“I love you,” he said. “Thank you for letting me come back.”
“Thank you for coming back. For always coming back.” Jane rested her head on his shoulder. “For being exactly who you are.”
“Broken and healing?”
“Perfect and mine.”
Gabriel laughed. Kissed the top of her head. “Yeah. Yours.”
They stood there in the morning light, watching Clara, and Jane thought: This is it. This is happy.
Not perfect. Not without fear or pain or lingering trauma.
But happy. Real. True.
And enough.
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