His voice cracks slightly. “I’m always going to be glad he’s dead. No matter what kind of man that makes me.”
I turn to face him, reaching up to cup his cheek. "She'd be proud of you. Of the man you've become."
He lets out a shaky breath and covers my hand with his. "I don't know about that. But I hope—I hope she'd be glad I found you. That I have someone in my life now who matters to me.”
“She would be,” I say firmly. “She’d be proud of you for being brave enough to love me. For making me yours, even though it terrified you.”
"Because of you." He leans down and kisses my forehead. His lips linger there for a moment, soft against my skin. "You make me better, Maeve. You make me want to be better."
“And you make me stronger than I was before,” I whisper, leaning into his side.
We stay a while longer, in the warmth of the summer sun. Sean tells me stories about his mother—small things, memories he hasn’t talked about for years. The way she used to sing while she cooked. How she'd give him extra dessert on the nights she had to work. The time she took him to see the ocean and they spent the whole day on the beach, just the two of them, and it was the happiest he remembered being as a child.
I listen and hold him as he talks, soaking it all in. I’m grateful that he trusts me with this, with these pieces of himself that are so tender and painful. When we finally leave, he seems lighter somehow. Not happy, exactly, but unburdened in a way he wasn't before.
"Thank you," he says as we walk back to the car. "For being here with me. I know this isn’t a happy trip.”
“Not everything is happy.” I squeeze his hand. “But those parts are meaningful, too.”
The cemetery where my family is buried is across town, larger and more modern. The graves here are spread out withmore space between them, the headstones polished granite and marble. There are fresh flowers on a lot of the graves. We stop in front of the three that hold my family—the headstones with my father’s name, with Siobhan’s, with Desmond’s.
There’s a familiar ache in my chest as I stand there looking down at them. I stare for a long time, wondering what to say. I loved my family, and I didn’t. They were cruel and harsh, but they were still mine. And I have good memories of Desmond, but they don’t mesh with the man he turned out to be.
Sean stands beside me, his hand in mine, and doesn't say anything. He just waits, patient and steady, while I try to find words.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, looking at them. “I’m sorry that you couldn’t see that I was something more than just a shadow, the third child, the one who wasn’t really needed. I’m sorry that whatever the world did to you made you the way you were. I’m sorry we were all born into a world of such violence that it warps people. But I…” I swallow hard. “I’ve found a way to still be someone full of light, even in a world that’s full of darkness. And I hope you’d find some happiness in that, if you were still alive.”
Tears spill over my cheeks before I even realize they’re welling up, and Sean pulls me against his chest. I let myself cry, let myself feel all the grief I've been holding back since they died, one after another. I needed closure, and that’s what it feels like I’ve found here.
I cry until I feel as if all the tears are gone, as if I’ve released everything that’s been twisting inside of me for months and months, and then I squeeze Sean’s hand, pulling back from him as I wipe my eyes.
“I’m ready to go back,” I say quietly. Nothome, because I don’t think the mansion will ever really be my home again. But I’m ready to leave this place.
Sean drives us back to the house with one hand on the wheel and the other holding mine. And I feel, as we sit there together in the car, as if another page is turning, a new chapter beginning.
One where I can finally leave all the ghosts of my past behind.
—
The next morning, I wake up to sunlight streaming through the windows of my old bedroom. It's strange being here, in this house full of memories, but it's less painful with Sean beside me. He makes everything less painful. He's already awake, propped up on one elbow, watching me with an expression I can't quite read.
"What?" I smile sleepily, turning in his arms so that I’m facing him.
"Nothing. Just looking at my wife."
“Don’t be creepy.” I swat his chest, but I’m laughing, and he smiles.
“I can’t take my eyes off of you. Sometimes, I can’t believe you’re really here.” He leans forward and kisses me, reaching past me as he does. When he pulls back, I blink, seeing a small black velvet box in his hand.
My heart thuds in my chest. "Sean?—"
He hands it to me, pressing the small box into my palm. "Open it," he says quietly.
My hands are shaking slightly as I take the box and lift the lid. Inside, nestled in silk, is the most beautiful ring I've ever seen. It's delicate and elegant—a yellow gold band comprised of small emeralds interspersed with diamonds. The stones catch the morning light, making it glint in the silk.
“Sean.” I stare at it. "It's—it's beautiful."
"It's a wedding band," he says. "A real one. One that I want to give you.”
