Chapter 5 - The Sanctuary on 57th StreetBy 6:00 PM that evening, the misty fog over Manhattan had cleared, leaving behind a crisp, star-lit autumn night.
Inside my private top-floor penthouse on 57th Street, a warm fire crackled merrily in the stone hearth, casting golden, dancing reflections across the mahogany beams and plush velvet sofas.
The room was filled with the rich, comforting aromas of a home-cooked dinner prepared by my private chef, soft classical music, and the silver laughter of two-year-old Posie.
Posie sat on a soft plush rug near the hearth, wearing comfortable pink cotton pajamas, playing happily with a set of wooden building blocks I had ordered for her from FAO Schwarz two hours earlier.
Mave sat on the edge of the velvet sofa wearing a soft cashmere sweater, a cup of hot chamomile tea held in her hands. Her dark hair was dry, falling in glossy waves over her shoulders, her hazel eyes holding a quiet, breathless peace that made my heart swell with deep, weightless emotion.
I sat beside her on the sofa, having changed out of my wet tuxedo into a dark linen shirt and trousers.
I reached out my broad hand, gently taking her small, warm fingers into my palm, brushing my thumb over her skin.
"How is she feeling?" I asked softly, looking toward Posie on the rug.
"She loves the blocks, Garrett," Mave offered a soft, radiant smile—a look of pure, unbroken joy that I hadn't seen on her face in three long years. "She kept asking if the big man with the gray eyes was really her daddy."
Tears burned behind my eyes. I looked down at our hands, then raised my winter-gray eyes to meet hers.
"I am her daddy, Mave," I whispered, my voice thick with deep, genuine devotion. "And I am never going to let anyone separate us again."
Mave looked into my eyes, her hazel eyes welling with heavy, unadulterated tears as she leaned forward, resting her forehead comfortably against mine, her hands coming up to wrap around my neck.
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"I never stopped loving you, Garrett," Mave confessed, every word dropped into the quiet room like a sacred promise. "Not for a single day in three years."
I pulled her small frame into my broad arms, holding her close against my chest, pressing a sweet, unhurried kiss against her lips—a kiss that burned away three years of aching silence, bitter lies, and lonely nights.
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