Page 47 of The Minotaur's Nanny Bride

"This isn't working," I mutter to myself, my breath fogging the glass slightly. "None of this works without her."

The realization settles over me like a physical weight. It's not just that Ellis misses her—though he does, the gods know he does. It's not just that she made things easier—though she did, with her practical efficiency and unwavering calm. It's that this house, this life I'm trying to build for us, feels fundamentally wrong without Maya in it.

I've been a fool. A stubborn, proud, terrified fool.

Terrified of admitting how much I need her. Terrified of giving someone else the power to leave me. Just like Iris left. Just like my parents. Just like Arekia. But in trying to protect myself from that hurt, I've caused a deeper wound—for her, for Ellis, for myself.

A knock at the door pulls me from my thoughts. Three light taps, followed by a pause, then two more—Lyra's signature knock. I almost don't answer, not feeling up to company, but Lyra isn't one to be deterred by silence.

When I open the door, she's standing there with a knowing look in her bright green eyes. Her copper-red hair is braided as usual, woven through with some kind of small white flowers that smell faintly medicinal. One hand rests protectively over her slightly rounded belly, a habit she's developed since her pregnancy began to show.

"You look terrible," she says bluntly.

I snort despite myself. "Good afternoon to you, too, sunshine."

"When's the last time you slept?" She steps past me into the house without waiting for an invitation, her eyes tracking around the room, taking in the scattered toys, the unwashed dishes, the general air of disarray.

"Ellis went down about fifteen minutes ago," I say, dodging the question. "Should be out for an hour at least."

Lyra doesn't reply immediately. Instead, she makes a slow circuit of the living room, straightening a blanket here, picking up a toy there. When she finally looks at me, her expression is gentle with understanding.

"I'm here to babysit," she says simply, as if reading my mind. "Go get her."

For a moment, I just stare at her, processing the words. Then the dam breaks, and everything I've been holding back comes rushing out.

"Maya thinks I don't want her. That I just see her as—" I run a hand through the fur between my horns. "She put her heart into this family and I pushed her away and?—"

Lyra steps forward, putting her small hand on my forearm, the size difference between us almost comical. "Dex," she cuts me off firmly. "I know. She's told me everything."

"Everything?" I wince.

"Everything," she confirms, the corner of her mouth twitching upward. "Including some details about that night that I really could have done without, to be honest."

Heat rushes up my neck and into my ears at the memory of that night, of Maya's skin under my hands, the sounds she made when I?—

"Focus, Dex," Lyra snaps her fingers in front of my face, bringing me back to the present. "The point is, she's miserable. You're miserable. Ellis deserves better than two miserable guardians. So go fix it."

I nod, a wave of relief flooding through me. The decision crystallizes in my chest, solid and certain.

"There are bottles in the?—"

"I can find where everything is," Lyra interrupts, shooing me toward the door. "I've been taking care of babies while you were still learning to count trade goods. Now go, before you overthink this too."

I don't say anything else, but the decision is made. I leave Ellis with Lyra, determination settling in my chest like a physical weight. I'm going after Maya. I'm not losing her again.

27

MAYA

I'm pressing mortar against the pestle when the door crashes open so hard the frame rattles. My hand jerks, scattering green gankoya root across the wooden counter. In the doorway, silhouetted against the afternoon light, stands Dex. His massive frame fills the entrance completely, chest heaving as if he's run all the way from his home.

"Dex?"

My voice sounds small in the quiet shop. The customers left an hour ago, leaving me alone with my thoughts and my herbs. The same thoughts that have circled my mind for days—memories of a baby's laughter, of large hands awkwardly folding tiny clothes, of a gruff voice softening while reading bedtime stories. Of a night I can't forget, no matter how hard I try.

He steps inside, letting the door swing shut behind him. His green eyes lock onto mine with an intensity that roots me to the spot. His copper-highlighted fur catches the light streaming through my shop windows, and there's something different about him. Something I haven't seen before.

"I love you, Maya."

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