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And just like that, it was over. Saks pleaded guilty to the lesser charge and was sentenced to one year in jail.
After the sentencing, we were asked to give our victim impact statements.
I walked up, hand in hand with my dad and sister, and each of us spoke in our turn.
I was the last one up, trying to keep hold of my emotions so I could get through the entire statement.
“Nothing in my life prepared me for losing my mother. She was the center of love in our family and will remain always,” I paused, swallowing past the enormous lump in my throat. “The manner of her death leaves a pain that will scar us forever. I won’t forgive Jeremy Saks for getting in his car that day and taking my mother from us. But I also won’t let her death be the marker of her life. My mother was more than a victim. She was a loving wife, mother, sister, daughter, and aunt. She filled a room with laughter and joy. My mom didn’t just give love, she was love. And that’s what I will carry with me.”
The tears slipped out and I brushed them away as we made our way back to the gallery. Friends and extended family gathered around us, and we quickly headed for the exit.
Reporters jammed mics in our faces as we left the building, yelling out for comments.
For once, I had nothing to say to them.
As we headed for the parking lot, my phone buzzed.
When I saw Tate’s name flash, I was finally able to breathe.
CHAPTER 36
REED
Ispent the next three days helping my dad go through my mom’s stuff, deciding what to keep and what to let go of.
It was something we’d meant to do sooner but didn’t have the heart to tackle.
But it was time.
The process was painful but necessary. And it wasn’t all sad, there were happy memories too.
We did our share of laughing and crying as we sorted through pictures, letters, and cards that she’d kept stored away in their closet.
The hardest part was going through her clothes. Her rose perfume lingered over everything, like she was right there in the room with us.
I half expected her to walk through the door, singing a happy tune.
By the time Thursday rolled around, I was more than ready to go home to Tate.
I’d held up pretty good. Better than I thought.
Until I hit the airport.
Or, rather, an airport bar.
After I checked in, I wandered through the terminal, needing the walk. I left my sunglasses and baseball cap on, and thankfully, that did the trick. No one recognized me.
I made my way over to the first-class lounge, which was one of the nicest I’d ever been in. But the place was surprisingly small and packed with too many people. I was craving a quiet spot all to myself. Not easy to find in a busy airport in New York.
So, I headed back out into the terminal, passing shops along the way.
And then I spotted a restaurant that looked like a good option.
The tables were filled but the bar only had one patron. There was plenty of room for me to sit undisturbed.
Not that I had a habit of sitting at bars anymore.
Fuck it. I can do this.
