“She’s not my daughter.” The words came out sounding harsh and desperate. “She never was. We took her in because circumstances required it.”
“Is that what you believe or what you need to believe to justify walking away?”
Owen stared into his glass, seeing his own reflection distorted in the amber liquid. When had he become a man who could look at a child he’d sung to sleep and call her a temporary inconvenience?
“It doesn’t matter what I believe. The law is clear.”
“The law.” Felix’s voice carried disgust. Then, he signaled the server for his own drink. His movements were sharp with suppressed anger. “Do you know what Iris asked Grace to bring tomorrow? A little chest for Evie’s baby clothes. She’s packing them away as keepsakes.”
Owen’s chest tightened until he could barely breathe. “She shouldn’t keep reminders.”
“Why not? Because it might make this harder for you? Because seeing evidence of your happiness might crack that careful control you prize so highly?”
“Because reminders make moving forward impossible.”
“Moving forward to what? A return to the empty existence you had before? Meals taken alone, evenings spent in silence, a marriage that’s nothing more than legal documents?”
“It worked before.”
“Did it?”
Owen drained his glass, welcoming the burn that distracted him from Felix’s uncomfortable truths. Had he been lonely before Evie’s arrival? The past months had shown him what warmth felt like, making his previous existence seem cold by comparison.
“Some men aren’t meant for family life.”
“Some men convince themselves they aren’t meant for it because admitting they want it requires courage they don’t possess.”
“You think I lack courage?”
“I think you lack faith.” Felix’s drink arrived, but he ignored it in favor of studying Owen’s face. “Faith in yourself, in Iris, in the possibility that love might not destroy everything it touches.”
“Love destroyed my parents.”
“Obsessiondestroyed your parents. Selfish, all-consuming need that had nothing to do with genuine care for another person.” Felix leaned forward. “What you have with Iris and Evie isn’t obsession. It’s the real thing. That terrifies you more than any legal document could.”
Owen wanted to argue and defend his position with logic and precedent. But the words wouldn’t come. How could he explain that every moment of happiness with his makeshift family had felt like borrowing against future pain? That loving them felt like standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting for the inevitable fall?
“She deserves better than what I can give her.”
“She deserves honesty and the chance to decide for herself what she’s willing to risk.” Felix finally lifted his glass but continued studying him over the rim. “Instead, you’re making choices for her based on your fears.”
“I’m protecting her.”
“You’reabandoningher. Again. Just like you did after your wedding, when you decided she’d be safer without your presence.”
The accusation struck home with devastating accuracy. Owen was indeed abandoning Iris. Choosing his comfort over fighting for what mattered most. Using legal technicalities to justify what was ultimately emotional cowardice.
“Even if I wanted to fight this, what grounds would I have? The documents seemed legitimate.”
“Seemed.” Felix pounced on the word. “You saidseemed. Which means you have doubts.”
Owen thought of the perfectly matched handwriting and the convenient timing of the solicitor’s arrival. His instincts, honed by years of business negotiations, suggested something wasn’t right. But instincts weren’t evidence.
“Doubts aren’t facts.”
“Neither is surrender.” Felix stood up then tossed a few coins onto the table. “I’m going home to my comfortable bachelor life, where the only heart I can break is my own. You should go home to your family. While you still have one.”
After Felix left, Owen remained at his table, surrounded by the detritus of his evening’s drinking and the uncomfortable weight of truth. The club grew quieter as the last few members departed, leaving him increasingly isolated with his thoughts.
