He turns and makes a beeline for me. The moment he reaches the railing, he hoists himself up, cups my face and kisses me—hard, euphoric, and breathless—and the whole world fades away.
When we finally pull apart, my daughters are shrieking, as is Angie, and Ivy’s saying something about viral content.
Jonah brushes his sweaty thumb along my cheek, and I’m lightheaded from adrenaline andhim.
“Go get your trophy,” I murmur, nudging him back toward the field where his team is gathering for photos.
He gives me that grin—that wonderful, powerful grin. “I already have it.”
Epilogue
Renée
Four Months Later
For the first time in more than ten years, I stand on the porch of my childhood home, with Jonah and the girls behind me.
“I’m ready if you are,” Amber says, taking my hand in hers in gentle reassurance.
“It’s time.”
“You got this,” Jonah whispers.
We1 decided it was time we make amends with our mother. Amber has been holding onto her pain, even though she knew it was right to ask for forgiveness—part of her drug rehab and all. I had to make the leap too, not only for me, but for Amber and my daughters. I’ve faced so many fears since my husband died, all of them hard, but all of them worth it. It was time to face this one.
We called our mom last week and spoke briefly, letting her know we’d like to visit and try to work things out. I wanted to go into detail right then, but doing it face to face felt like the right thing to do.
That’s how I find myself awkwardly ringing the doorbell to the place I once snuck in and out of as a teenager.
Mom’s anxious face appears through the glass door—the corner of her mouth curling into a hesitant smile before thedoor opens. “Hi.”
I thought I would be stronger, but hot tears spring forth and my voice cracks. “Hi Mom. I missed you.”
“I missed you too,” Amber says.
In an instant, our mom wraps her arms around both of us in a fierce hug—and somehow, without words, she erases the shame I’ve been carrying around for no reason. The three of us stand there in the cool spring breeze, holding each other in the kind of love that could never be broken, no matter how much pain we may have caused.
I release them, wipe my tears with the back of my hand, and gesture behind us. “Mom, these are your granddaughters, Delta and Loretta, and this is my boyfriend, Jonah Johanssen.”
All three of them wave and say hello at the same time, and I laugh.
“Well, it’s about time,” Mom cheers. “Everyone come inside.”
Her grin is a mile wide as we follow her to the back of the house to the kitchen and living room. We pass by family photos, and my heart breaks all over again seeing myself and Amber—still proudly displayed amongst my parents’ framed records—like we were never forgotten or disposed of the way I did to them.
The kitchen and living room have been updated, now with muted earthy greens, cream, and hickory, and it’s so much the kind of home I could see myself in.
Mom has snacks and refreshments already laid out, and when the girls dig in, she leans against the counter with her hands propped under her chin, watching them in fascination. She asks them everything—favorite colors and subjects in school, what kind of music they like, who their friends are and what they’re like.
“Jonah is our friend too,” Loretta smiles. “He lives next door, and he’s a rugby player, and he has a farm.”
Mom beams. “Is that why you like him?”
“A hundred percent,” Jonah teases. “They’re all just using me for my animals.”
She laughs. “And how long have you two been together?”
I take his hand in mine and stare at him affectionately. “Since November.”
