Page 125 of Beloved Beauty

“I was a bastard to you.” His gaze flickers to mine and then away. “I know that now.”

I say nothing.

“You didn’t deserve what I did to you. What I put you through. You didn’t deserve any of it. Neither of you.”

I cross my arms. “No. We didn’t.”

He nods. “It wasn’t a lie when I said I fell in love with you.” His voice drops a little, almost inaudibly. “That part was very true, but I understand that doesn’t matter. It never mattered. You love him. It’ll always be him.”

I hold his gaze, feeling no need to confirm what he already knows to be the truth.

He looks down at the unmistakable curve of my stomach. “Is it a boy or a girl?”

“Didn’t find out. We want to be surprised.”

His mouth lifts, almost a smile. “My money’s on a boy. I can see Sebring with a son.”

His smile fades, but the softness stays. And for once, there’s nothing sharp in his expression. Just acceptance.

I don’t move closer. I don’t soften. But I don’t harden either.

“I hope you mean what you’re saying about being a better person.”

“I do.” His voice cracks, then finds its footing. “Facing down death changes things for a person. But I’m lucky. My odds are good. The cancer has responded to the treatments.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Truly.” I pause. “But whatever part of your story included me is finished.”

He nods, throat working as he swallows.

“There’s nothing left here for you, Tyson. No anger. No resentment. Nothing at all. And that’s not bitterness—it’s peace. I found it. Please don’t come looking for pieces of something I’ve already let go.”

His lips press into a thin line, his eyes briefly closing. “I understand.”

“Good,” I say, offering nothing more. No false comfort. No invitation to rewrite the past.

After a pause, he nods again, slower this time. “Then I guess I’ll go.”

I stay exactly where I am. “Take care of yourself, Tyson.”

He looks at me—really looks—and for the first time, I think he sees me clearly. Not the version he wanted. Not the one he tried to control.

“You too, Magnolia,” he says, voice low. “You look happy.”

“I am.”

Fiercely, finally, completely happy.

He turns, and I watch him walk out of the hotel. Not because I’m still tangled in him, but because I’m not. Because there’s something triumphant in standing still while the past walks itself out the door.

Chapter 37

Alex Sebring

The cameras are back, circling like buzzards outside the stadium, behind the barricades at press events, even parked near the end of our street in cars with tinted windows and long lenses.

Last week, a van was parked beyond the hedges. Same one from the day before. Different guy behind the wheel but the same hungry expression.

They’ve followed me home, tracked me to restaurants, caught me outside my parents’ house. That was fine when it was only me, but now I’ve got a wife who’s carrying the most important thing I’ve ever done with my life.

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