It had been six months since Francesco’s arrest.Since the blood, the fear, the secrets that nearly swallowed us whole.Six months of rebuilding—not just safety, but trust.
He didn’t just stay.
He learned how.
The low crunch of tires on gravel reached us before the doorbell.
Morgan’s eyes widened.“Is it the limo?”
I smiled.“It’s the limo.”
The girls squealed and barreled toward the door.I opened it before they reached it.
Creed stood on the porch, tall and devastating in a black tux, the collar open just enough to remind me that beneath the polish was still the man who could dismantle a room without raising his voice.He held a single white rose.
“For you,” he said quietly.
My heart forgot how to function.
“You’re still trying to seduce me,” I murmured, taking the rose.
“I’m not trying,” he said, stepping closer.“You already know I want you.”
He kissed just below my ear—slow, reverent—and I swayed into him.
“You look...”He exhaled.“Like everything I never thought I was allowed to have.”
Aunt Ruth cleared her throat pointedly.“If you’re finished admiring her, Creed, the exhibit opens in forty minutes.”
He grinned but didn’t move.“Ten seconds.”
“I’ll give you five,” she said, brushing past with the girls trailing behind.
Creed cupped my cheek, his expression softening in a way that still startled me.“Are you ready for tonight?”
“For my mother?”I nodded.“Yes.”
“For you?”he asked.
That stopped me.
“For all of us,” I said honestly.
He leaned in, kissing my cheek.“Good.”
I took his hand as we walked to the car.
The limo door opened.Morgan and Michelle waved from inside like they were headed to the Oscars.Aunt Ruth lifted a glass of champagne, catching the light like a promise.
* * *
THE GALLERY BREATHEDwith quiet reverence—soft music, murmured admiration, the kind of attention that didn’t demand but invited.
My mother stood near her largest piece, hands trembling slightly as my sister wrapped her in a fierce hug.Olivia glowed, Christopher steady at her side, their twins—Grace and Gretchen—delighted by the attention.My father stood a few steps away, silent, his gaze fixed on my mother with something I’d never seen before.
Pride.
No control.No ownership.
