The suggestion was so gentle, so carefully offered, that I felt tears prick my eyes again.
“Maybe I should,” I agreed softly.
Frankie leaned her head against my shoulder. “I love him, Mom. I know that’s probably scary for you to hear, but I do. He’s my dad. And I think... I think you love him too.”
I didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer. Because she was right.
“Come on,” I said finally, standing up and offering her my hand. “Let’s get you back to bed.”
Frankie took my hand and let me pull her to her feet. We walked down the hall together, and I tucked her into bed the way I had when she was little.
“Mom?” she said as I turned to leave.
“Yeah, baby?”
“It’s going to be okay.” She said it with such certainty, such absolute faith, that I almost believed her.
“Goodnight, Frankie.”
“Goodnight, Mom. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
I closed her door and stood in the hallway, listening to the quiet house around me. Everything felt different now. Heavier. More complicated.
But somewhere beneath the devastation and fear, there was something else. Something small and fragile.
Hope.
Not the easy kind. Not the kind that promised everything would work out perfectly. But the kind that whispered maybe, just maybe, I could try one more time. Maybe I could risk being wrong again. Maybe the cost of walking away would be higher than the cost of staying.
I didn’t know what I was going to do. Didn’t know if I could forgive Derek for keeping the truth from me. Didn’t know if I could trust him, or myself, enough to let him back in. Didn’t know if opening that door would lead to healing or to more heartbreak.
But for the first time since he’d walked out that door, I thought there might be a path forward.
Even if I had no idea what that path looked like yet. Even if every step would require more courage than I thought I had. Even if trying again meant risking everything I’d fought so hard to protect.
Maybe that was what hope really meant: not certainty, but willingness. Not knowing but choosing anyway.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Katrina
I didn’t sleep.
How could I? Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Derek’s face as he walked out the door. Heard his voice sayingI love you both. Felt the weight of everything I’d learned crushing down on me until I couldn’t breathe.
By the time the sun started to rise, I’d given up trying. I made coffee and sat at the kitchen table, staring at nothing, my hands wrapped around the mug for warmth I couldn’t seem to find, thinking about everything that had been thrown at me in the last twenty-four hours.
The knock came just after seven.
Three sharp raps that made my heart jump into my throat.
I knew who it was before I even stood up. Knew it in the way my body tensed and my pulse quickened. I walked to the door slowly, my bare feet silent on the hardwood floor.
Through the peephole, I could see him.
Derek stood on my porch, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, his shoulders hunched against the morning chill. He looked like he hadn’t slept either. His hair was disheveled, his jaw shadowed with stubble, his eyes red-rimmed and exhausted.
