"Maybe not, but I blame me," Asher says. "I always have. Now I need to learn to let it go."
I squeeze his hand as something shifts between us, a knot untangling.
No one says anything as waiters appear with breakfast, but the silence isn't tense this time. It's…hopeful. Peaceful.
When the wait staff vanishes again, we don't talk about the past or our pain again. Instead, we talk about my plans for my agency, the one Asher is helping me build. We talk about Liam's movies, about LA, and about all the gossip and rumors that replaced us in the news cycle.
It's almost…normal.
When Liam's phone rings an hour later, he finishes his coffee, stands, and ruffles my hair. "You're going to be okay," he says, like it's a fact. Then he hugs me, quick and hard, and heads out, already on his phone, already moving to the next thing.
I watch him go, feeling lighter than I have in years.
Asher leans back, draping an arm around my shoulders. "You know what I'm most looking forward to?" he asks, pressing his lips to my temple.
"What?"
"Never having to pretend with you again."
I smile, burrowing into him. This is what it means to survive, to be broken and put back together, to be loved so fiercely it burns away all the old scars.
His hand finds mine, his thumb stroking over the ring he gave me. I slide my free hand over my belly, where something new and fragile might be growing. I don't tell him yet. I want to let it be mine for a while longer.
But for the first time, I feel hopeful—not just for myself, but for all of us.
Maybe that's the point. Maybe, after everything, we were always meant to build something beautiful from the ruins, something whole, and new, and perfect.
Something just for us.
Epilogue
Asher
"She's going to eat them alive," I say, adjusting my sleeping daughter in my arms, my eyes locked on my wife.
She's standing halfway across the glassy expanse of her new lobby, surrounded by a pack of studio heads and magazine editors. She works them with ease, a glass of champagne in hand, and a smile curving her lips that has absolutely nothing todo with actual happiness. Not that anyone in this room can tell the difference. They're too busy being in love with her, the way everyone always is.
She's in a fitted black dress that hugs her curves so tight, I'm jealous of the fabric just like I always am. Her ring catches the light every time she gestures, sending a familiar mix of pride and awe through me. Every now and then, she glances at me, something in her eyes that makes me forget anyone else exists.
Liam chuckles beside me, a whiskey in one hand and a miniature cupcake in the other. "You can't keep your eyes off her," he says, grinning.
"She's nervous," I say.
"She's always nervous. But she's also a goddamn killer. Watch."
He's right. Brielle's face is pure steel as she corners a casting director against the window, determined to get what she wants. Whatever she says makes the woman laugh a little too loudly, her eyes shining with adoration.
"She's better at this than I'll ever be," I murmur, completely serious. She never has to threaten or browbeat to get what she wants. All she has to do is smile, and they're falling at her feet, ready to give her whatever she asks. She swears it's because they look at her and see her mom, but I know better. It's because they see her.
"That's because she's not an asshole, Ash."
I shoot her brother a dark glare, just to remind him that I'm still capable of making his life hell with a single text. Just because I don't automatically reach for that option these days doesn't mean I can't—or won't—use it when necessary. I still do. I'm just a little less reckless with that power now.
For her sake, I had to learn to be. For my own, too, perhaps. I don't need to be the biggest monster in the room to get my point across, not anymore. Now, I just get to be her monster.
Learning wasn't easy, not by any means. But every goddamn setback, every fight, every time I thought she might leave again, every single second when I thought maybe she'd be better off without me, has been worth it to get here. I've never known happiness like this, and I know she hasn't, either.
Liam smirks at me, reaching for my daughter. "Hand her over."
