Page 179 of Unexpected Redemption

“Father? What about your granddaughter? Perhaps you should be askin’ formyforgiveness.” Crossing my arms, I scooch away from her. My rage returns to a rolling boil. “And after you’re done, I’m haulin’ Alan over here, and you can apologize to him too.”

She flinches, darting her gaze around to look for him. “He’s here? Oh dear.”

Oh dear?

Fuck this.

“Mama, listen. I’ve got to pee, so I’ll make this quick.”

Her head rears back, and her mouth curls down with disgust. “Manners, young lady.”

Ignoring her jab, I dump everything I came here to say, rambling it out in one fell swoop. “Mama, I can only imagine how hard it was to lose your daughter. And I’m very sorry for your loss. However, grief doesn’t excuse your actions. Once you’re ready to apologize for all your lies, I’ll listen. If you’re genuine with your words, I’ll forgive you. Until then, I’ll be living my life. I hope you’ll come around before the wedding or the birth of your first grandchild.” I make a popping sound, smacking my lips. “Correction. Your firstgreat-grandchild. That’ll be in about six months. I love you. Thank you for raising me. But I can’t continue pretending to have a relationship with someone who hurt me as much as you did. Especially since you’re only sorry you got caught.” I shrug. “If you’re sorry at all, that is.”

I press to my feet, holding out my hand for Tomer. I hear his footsteps approach, and he envelopes my hand a second later. Mama looks at me with the wide-eyed shock of a kid who dropped the ice cream off their cone.

“Violet,” she starts, her voice quivering. “You’re pregnant?”

I don’t see outrage or righteousness reflecting at me. Only shock.

“Yes. I’m thrilled about it. I’m in love and happy. I wish you all the best. For now, this is where we say goodbye.”

When we walk away, I don’t look back.

And I don’t cry.

That’ll happen later.

Instead, I hold my head high and look forward to the rest of my life. No more secrets and no more lies.

Maybe she’ll come around, or maybe she won’t. I can’t control that, so there’s no sense in worrying about it.

Same as Tomer’s therapist told him not to do, I won’t be cheating on my future with my past. I’m emerging from the cocoon of trauma as a new me. Free from heartache.

With Tomer beside me and Redleg watching our backs, we stroll off into the sun. All the shadows fall behind us.

Where they belong.

Epilogue

TOMER

I’d imagine most men are terrified when they’re moments from proposing marriage. After all, it’s a giant step in any relationship. Maybe they’re doubting if it’s the best thing to do or the right time. They could be uncertain of her answer. Or perhaps they’re questioning whether she’s reallythe one.

If those are the causes for preproposal jitters, it’s no wonder I’m as relaxed as I’ve ever been. My palms aren’t clammy, and my pulse is steady. Not a fidget or tremor in my body. Only a dash of impatience as I await their arrival.

Big Al’s chauffeuring Lettie to the botanical gardens under the guise of a father-daughter dinner. They should be pulling into the parking lot any minute. He’ll text when they park. The facility closed at sunset, but we made special arrangements to reserve the butterfly pavilion to ensure Lettie’s safety. We’ve got a team guarding the perimeter.

I glance around the vast, dome-shaped pavilion, cementing the scenery to memory. Over my head, the twinkling white lights shimmer off the glass tiles lining the roof. Shep and Lionheartdraped those for us earlier today, adding to the ambiance. The romantic music on Klein’s playlist emanates from the speakers a few feet away. The sweet scent of the flowers and shrubs cover the spaces on both sides of the walkway. And the butterflies, resting for the night, are mostly hidden amongst the colorful petals and blossoms.

Again and again, I sweep my vision from one side of the greenhouse to the other. Once Lettie arrives, all I’ll see is her. Like always, she’ll drown out everything else around me.

My phone buzzes in my back pocket. I give it a quick check, confirming their arrival.

Sawyer hollers from the back of the pavilion, impersonating a cliché director on a movie set. “Places, everyone. Places. Sixty seconds until we’re live. Roll the cameras.”

I crick my head to one side, trying to recall if we agreed on whether to film it. I thought we killed that idea.

As if reading my mind, Sawyer adds, “We’re notreallyfilming it. Calm down, Tomer.”

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