“All Lily’s doing. Evan’s sister,” Rachel says as she points to my sister with a proud smile. “She’s great.”
Her dad nods. “Well, we appreciate you inviting us.”
There’s a thick tension in the air, and I really want there to be something I can do to make it go away, to control everything, to make this easy for Rachel. But I know the only thing I can do is be here for her. To help her through this. To let her navigate forgiveness in a way that makes sense to her.
So, that’s what I’ll do, because that’s what she needs.
“How is the hotel?” I ask.
“It’s nice to stay somewhere we don’t have to clean,” her dad jokes.
I nod, and then a woman who looks like a younger version of Rachel’s mom steps forward.
“I’m Suzanne,” she says to me before she turns to Rachel. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. Well, let me rephrase that. I think I knew, but I didn’t want to think it was true.”
Rachel’s eyes water. I pull her closer into me, hoping she can steal some of my strength. I don’t know much about Suzanne, but I know enough to understand that their relationship was never like the one I have with Lily.
“It’s going to take me some time to…” Rachel trails off.
“Forgive us?” Suzanne asks.
“Yes, and to trust you again,” Rachel says softly.
I see her mom swallow hard. “That’s fair, honey. And Andrew? Do you think you can trust him again?”
I’d be lying if those words didn’t sting a little bit coming from Rachel’s mom, as if she still wants to believe there’s a possibility Andrew can be part of their family with Rachel.
“No, Momma,” Rachel says firmly, then she looks up at me, her eyes bright and beautiful. “I can’t unknow what real love feels like.”
Real love.
For most of my life, I felt like love wasn’t for me.
Parents who left.
A woman who said forever, but meant until it got hard.
A thousand mistakes I blamed on myself.
Somewhere along the way, I stopped hoping. I stopped believing good things could be mine without falling apart.
But Rachel doesn’t look at my broken pieces and pity me—she sees a story still being written. A life still unfolding. A man still worth loving.
I smile at the memories we’re making, the story of us we’re writing, and something inside of me knows that this is going to be the best story ever written. This is more than ink on paper; these are words in real time.
And I’m not scared of the ending.
Because with her, it’s only ever going to be the beginning of something good.
Epilogue
Rachel
Twoyearslater…
Board game boxes and pieces are scattered everywhere around mine and Evan’s NYC apartment.
Leaving Mal was hard. Leaving Wonton, not so much.
