Page 107 of Best Kept Vows

It was time for me to learn from her—to be the bigger man.

I sat next to my father on the bed, gently taking his hand.

To my surprise, his feeble fingers responded with a determined squeeze, a tender yet final connection that reached across the gulf of fading strength.

Lia settled herself at the other side of the bed, her hand resting gently on Dad’s arm as if to offer a final measure of comfort.

With great effort, his eyes fluttered open. Their once-bright blue had dulled, yet they still held a focused clarity as they found mine. A faint twitch of his lips hinted at a smile—a nostalgic echo of a time when joy was more abundant.

I’d hated this man even as I had loved him, and measured my manhood against him—given into ego and pride. But he’d been the one who had set me free when he told me to take care of Lia and sell the company.

The word caught in my throat, but I still choked out, “Dad.”

His voice, ragged and barely above a whisper, struggled to form words. “Proud…of you,” he managed, each word drawn out in deliberate, painful fragments.

“Not…because of Metal,” he continued haltingly, as if each syllable was a monumental effort. “But…because…you chose happiness.”

I tightened my grip around his weakening fingers, desperate to hold onto that whispered affirmation.

“Lia, thank…you,” Dad said, turning to look at my wife.

She smiled through her tears. “You take care now, Abraham. And sleep well.”

He chuckled—actually,chuckled—and my heart eased a little. He was happy as he was dying, and no one could ask for more than that.

“Seb…as…” His breathing became erratic.

“Dad—” I began, but his hand squeezed mine one last time.

Then, with a final, shuddering breath, his chest rose slowly—then fell—and it never rose again.

Lia wrapped herself around me, her touch serving as a lifeline amidst the overwhelming emptiness.

I bowed my head, pressing my forehead tenderly against my father’s lifeless hand, my body shaking with grief.

Time became an indistinct blur as I sat with him, minutes stretching into what might have been hours.

Despite the pain, a profound, bittersweet relief, unexpectedly, stirred within me. He was no longer bound to a failing body.

Turning my gaze to Lia, who offered me an understanding look, I admitted hoarsely, “I didn’t think it would hurt this much.”

Her fingers curled gently around mine as she whispered, “I know.”

I exhaled a shaky, sorrowful breath, nodding in acceptance. Then, with quiet sincerity, I added, “Thank you for being here, Lia.”

Her hand tightened in reassurance, and she vowed, “I’ll always be here, Sebastian.”

CHAPTER 36

Ophelia

Savannah convergeden massefor Abraham Boone.

Christ Church Episcopal stood like a monument to Savannah’s history, its white steeple piercing the sky, casting long shadows over the cobbled streets.

It was one of the oldest churches in the city, its walls steeped in tradition. Inside, the light filtering through the stained-glass windows bathed the congregation in soft hues of blue, red, and gold, causing fleeting halos over bowed heads. The scent of polished wood, old hymnals, and lingering incense hung in the space, mingling with the low murmur of the gathered mourners.

The church was packed.

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