Page 97 of Once Upon A Second Chance
“Fraudulent coward,” Lena corrects.
Bijou thumps her tail against the cushions, apparently in full agreement.
We dissolve into laughter, the kind that makes your stomach ache, the kind that feels like letting out a breath you’ve been holding for months.
It’s not just about Rebecca anymore.
It’s the knowledge that this time, when the storm came, I didn’t just survive it.
I fought back.
We fought back.
After the laughter fades into a comfortable hum, I lean my head against Lena’s shoulder, feeling the warmth and the weight of the moment settle around us.
“Thanks,” I say quietly. “For having my back. For... all of it.”
Lena snorts like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. "You kidding? You think I was gonna let that witch burn your house down and just sit back with a glass of lemonade?"
I laugh again, but my throat tightens a little with something deeper, something heavier.
“No, really,” I say, nudging her. “You didn’t have to dive in like you did. But you did. You always do.”
Lena sets her phone down, looking at me with that rare, serious expression she usually reserves for telling off doctors who don’t wash their hands properly.
"You’re my person, Penny," she says simply. "You get one or two people in your life you go full ride-or-die for. You’re mine."
I don’t know if it’s the wine or the relief or just everything catching up to me at once, but my eyes sting.
Before I can say something emotional and embarrassing, Bijou pops up between us, tail wagging wildly, and licks both of our faces enthusiastically.
“Ugh, dog breath!” Lena shrieks, laughing and trying to fend her off.
I just sit there laughing so hard I nearly spill my wine, wiping slobber off my cheek with the sleeve of my sweatshirt.
Bijou settles back down proudly, as if to sayyou’re welcome.
My phone buzzes again, and I grab it, expecting another news alert.
Instead, it’s Richard.
Thank you. For fighting for me. For believing in me. I love you, Penny. Tell Lena she’s a damn superhero too.
I bite my lip, smiling so wide my face hurts.
I show the message to Lena, who pumps her fist like she just won the Super Bowl. “Damn straight I am!”
I text Richard back quickly:We love you too. And don’t worry—Lena’s already demanding a statue in her honor.
He replies with a string of laughing emojis and a heart.
Lena reclaims her spot beside me, tossing a few popcorn kernels onto Bijou’s head, and we settle in to watch the Bachelor finally hand out his rose to someone who probably deserves better.
Outside, the world is still messy, still complicated.
But here, in this room, it’s simple.
Safe.
