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“Who’s it from?”

“I think…” I swallowed. “Ravenna.”

His eyebrows rose. “Oh.”

Klair’s head snapped around from across the room. “WHAT?”

I rolled my eyes at her. “Can you mind your business?”

“No.”

“Clearly.”

I took the envelope into the kitchen and Nash followed but didn’t crowd me. “You want me to leave?”

“No.”

I opened it and my hands shook as I read.

Blair,

I got your letter.

I didn’t know what to say then, so I said nothing. You told me I didn’t owe you a response, and I appreciated that you actually meant it.

I still don’t forgive what happened. Maybe I never will. But I believe you’re sorry. I hope that’s enough for you because it has been enough for me.

I saw the announcement about your new home with your special someone. Congratulations.

Don’t fuck this up.

—Ravenna

P.S. You look happy. I love that for you, so keep it that way.

Nash read the card and laughed. I snatched the card and read it again.

I believe you’re sorry.

My eyes filled. A year ago, I would’ve dissected every sentence, looked for absolution, and asked whether I believe you’re sorry meant there was hope of forgiveness later. Not anymore.

Ravenna had given me exactly what she wanted to give. Nothing more, Nothing less. And I could accept it.

Mama had been right. My apology was mine. Her response was hers. Neither one needed to become a contract.

Nash leaned against the counter. “Are you crying?”

“No.”

“You are.”

“I’m emotional.”

“That usually involves crying.”

“Shut up.”

He smiled and pulled me against him into a hug.