Darcy looks at me. “She’s forgiven you?” Her eyes shine brightly.
“No,” I tell her, before turning to Mom. “There isn’t anything to talk about. She’s agreed to give me a second first date. It’s a chance, a foot in the door. But it’s not a promise of anything more.”
Mom touches the back of my hand with her fingers, her eyes glittering. “Sometimes a chance is all you need,” she whispers. “And whatever you need us to do, we’ll be there.”
My chest warms at her promise; words I wouldn’t have trusted notthat long ago. We don’t speak again as we eat our meal, each of us lost to our own thoughts. By the time the plates are cleared, Mom eyes us both with trepidation.
“Now, there is something else I need to tell you both,” she says almost warily. She picks up her purse and pulls out three envelopes. “One is for Nolan,” she murmurs, “but I’ll give it to him later.” She hands them over, our names scrawled across the front in familiar block letters.
”Mom—” Darcy starts, looking uneasy.
“I know, I know. His lawyer got me in to see him last week. Don’t worry, I told him you were all firmly against seeing him. He was—” She clears her throat, nose wrinkling. “He was not pleased.” That was clearly an understatement. “We came to a compromise. I said I would give you these,” she nods to the letter in my hand, “but I would not ask you to read them. If you want to throw them away, that’s your choice.”
Darcy swallows thickly, her eyes darting to me, clearly looking for some guidance on what to do. This wasn’t a choice I could make for her, though. Instead, I just gave our mom a tight smile and folded the envelope into quarters, tucking it away into my pocket. “Thank you.”
Darcy’s brows draw down low, and she declares. “I’m not reading it. I don’t care what he has to say.”
Mom leans across the table, taking Darcy’s hand. “And that’s your decision,” she murmurs softly. “And that’s okay.”
“Just a couple of weeks ago, you were saying something completely different,” Darcy says hotly, her eyes flashing wildly.
Mom exhales, looking tired. “I know, but like you said, we’re learning. That includes me, too, Darcy.” She smiles, but it’s small and brittle. “And it turns out that maybe I don’t have a lot of forgiveness in me, either.”
CHAPTER 31
Lily
DECLAN
Declan upped the ante after I agreed to go to the gala. He’d given me space when I asked for it, but he took my acceptance as permission to show me that he was still here, and not going anywhere.
It started after my night of overindulgence with Sasha. I’d woken to a quiet knock on the door. I’d opened it, mind still half-asleep and fuzzy with a killer hangover, only to find no one there. Instead, there’d been a cute woven basket, the handle wrapped with a blue ribbon, tied into a wonky bow. There’d been no note, just a small bottle of pain relief, orange juice and an electrolyte drink, and a still-warm ham and cheese croissant. Underneath that, there’d been a small crossword book, because he knew that I wasn’t a fan of gossip rags.
Two days later, there’d been a small hand-delivered envelope in my letterbox when I got home from work, a note inside, written in his sloping handwriting.
To my wife,
You’re on my mind.
All day. Every day.
I don’t want you to ever think that you’re not the brightest spot in my life, the best part of me. Because there is no me without you, Lily. You make me whole. Thank you for giving me another chance. I won't let you down again.
Your husband.
My heart raced as I read it, hearing his deep voice whispering in my mind, my stomach fluttering as each word sank into my bones. I’d read it again, slowly and then tucked it away into my purse, keeping it safe and accessible.
I’d debated with myself for over an hour about whether I should contact him, thank him for the basket and note. He was giving me every word that I needed to hear, every reassurance that maybe we could actually get past this, but I couldn’t quite stifle the little voice of doubt.
It was constantly reminding me about how he’d made me fall for him once before with lies, and I never even saw it coming. I needed his actions to match up with his promises, and it was going to take more than a hangover basket to pull that off.
Over the following two weeks, there’d been several other notes, each of them now tucked into the same zippered pocket of my bag. He didn’t message or ring, but he’d had lunch delivered right to my desk several times, always from one of my favorite restaurants. My coworkers had started eyeing me with speculation, and it’d been a nice change from the pity that had been burning into me until then.
Now, it was Friday, and the gala was tomorrow night, but I’d received nothing today. No note, and no lunch. I definitely wasn’t disappointed about that.
I wasn’t.
Dad had messaged me this morning, asking me to come over to Hi-Tech in the afternoon, citing he had something to tell me, even though I was supposed to have dinner with him and Julie latertonight.
