Page 48 of I Do, You Don't
"That's not how I saw it then. My feelings were jumbled, and I was breaking apart. At the time, I thought I was saving him. I’d get to keep my best friend, and my best friend would remain safe with me. I see now how wrong that is."
She breaks off, breath ragged. “I lied. I told him you were cheating. I faked texts, I made up stories about you and Calvin. I even photoshopped a picture of you two together.” She glances at Calvin, but he just looks tired.
“I wanted to stop,” she says, voice barely audible. “But it kept getting worse, my feelings, that is. And then it was too late.” She scrubs at her face with the back of her hand. “I hurt you. I hurt him. I broke everything. I don’t expect forgiveness. I just need you to know I’m sorry.”
It hangs there. No one moves. The apology is a living thing, heavy and squirming. It’s not enough. But it’s real.
Calvin studies Delilah like he’s seeing her for the first time. “It’s no excuse,” he says quietly.
Delilah just shakes her head. “I know.”
Drew sighs, shaky. “You ever notice it’s always because we think we’re not enough?” She closes the laptop. Whatever she was doing with Matthew doesn’t matter right now.
I look at Delilah, her ruined makeup, her shaking hands, the way her body curls away from the words she just said. Empathy is a spark, faint and stubborn. She’s just a person who got scared. A person who panicked. The villain of my story then, but not forever.
There’snothing to say. I hand her a tissue. She takes it, hands trembling, and wipes her face. I think about what forgiveness might feel like someday. Not now. Maybe not ever. But maybe.
Calvin stands at the window, staring at the city. Drew hugs me, and I let her.
The whiskey bottle on the desk glows in the sun, untouched.
Tomorrow’s family BBQ will be a different kind of battle: burgers, laughter, the smell of coleslaw and smoke. A small reminder of what matters. Family.
Chapter 21
Lara
The afternoon sun warms my skin, the air thick with barbecue smoke, fresh-cut grass, and laughter. I linger at the edge of the picnic area, scanning the sea of people spilling across the backyard. My family is here, the usual mix of chaos and comfort. The grill crackles with burgers and hot dogs, kids dart past with sticky fingers and louder voices, and everyone talks over one another, trading gossip like currency.
It’s a good day. No, it’s a great day.
I catch Calvin laughing with my dad, his easy grin contagious, and pride swells quietly in my chest. This is what I’ve worked for. This business, this life. I built it from the ground up. And while I’ve had endless support from friends and family, it was still my late nights, the endless meetings, the hard conversations with skeptical clients who left convinced once I showed them my plans. This success, this confidence I’ve been shaping, it’s mine.
It feels good to finally be here—to feel like I’m becoming the woman I’ve always wanted to be. And Calvin… Well, I’m getting to know him. He’s been a surprising constant, his quiet support a balm I didn’t know I needed. We’ve shared meals, traded ideas about business and life, and I’m beginning to see how much potential he carries. There’s a strength in him that doesn’t need to shout. I can tell he’s been through things, still healing, but it’s the kind of healing that makes space for others to grow with him.
Across the yard, Drew stands with a drink in hand, talking animatedly with some cousins. She waves me over, but I shake my head. I’m content to linger here a moment, my mind buzzing with thoughts of my business and the future ahead: financial literacy, accessible services, teaching women to claim their futures. It’s more than a job. It’s my purpose.
I’m just turning to check on Rex, my cousin’s dog, when I spot a familiar figure at the edge of the yard, hands in his pockets, standing like he doesn’t quite belong.
Gideon.
My stomach does that annoying little flip when I see him. Even after everything, even after all the pain, I still feel something. The air around him seems to shift, heavier, warmer, though he stands so quietly.
Our eyes lock across the yard, and for a moment, the noise and movement fade. Then he starts toward me, his steps hesitant, unsure, yet somehow deliberate. The way he looks at me is different. Not like the time he showed up with flowers, expecting forgiveness. Now he looks like a wounded animal, like a man who’s lost something vital and finally understands the cost.
I feel Drew’s eyes on me, but I don’t turn. My body is already moving toward Gideon before I can second-guess myself. Around us, the crowd keeps laughing and talking, oblivious to the shift tightening the air. It’s strange how life carries on, even when everything inside is in turmoil.
When I reach him, I stop, waiting. I don’t speak at first, because honestly, I don’t know what to say. He stands a little too straight, hands buried in his pockets, posture open yet guarded, like he’s bracing for a blow.
“Lara,” he says softly. “Can we talk? In private?”
I nod. “Yeah. Let’s step over here.” I motion toward the side of the yard, where the old oak tree casts a pocket of shade.
We walk in silence, the hum of the crowd fading as we move farther away. Beneath the tree, I fold my arms across my chest. He stands opposite me, looking a little lost, his gaze skimming everywhere but mine.
“I’m sorry, Lara,” he says after a beat, the words rough, like they’ve been lodged in his throat for months. “I know I don’t deserve it, but I am. I’ve been working on myself. I don’t know how else to say it, but I know I was wrong. I messed up. You didn’t deserve any of it.”
My chest tightens, and before I can stop myself, the words slip out. “I forgive you.”
