Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 132834 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 664(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132834 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 664(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Parker clicked the screen dark. “Let me see.” I reached for the tablet.
Parker hid it behind her back. “If you like it, it’s your wedding gift.”
“Parker, you don’t need to get me a wedding gift,” I said, surprised.
“It’s not just from me. Griffen and Hope wanted to give you and Finn the flowers and the photographer and that stuff. But the rest of us, me and Sterling, Scarlett, Avery, Daisy, and Quinn, we want to give you your dress. Please don’t argue. We’re going to be sisters, and this means a lot to all of us.”
“Really?” I squeaked out. “That’s so—” I choked up, fanning my face and blinking up at the ceiling. It meant so much to me to hear her say it, even though all of them had said it a million different ways a million times before. “You guys are—”
Parker gave me a tight hug. “We’re so happy for you. For both of you. I haven’t seen Finn like this for a long time. Not since I was little, before our mom died. He was always so sweet and funny, and then she was gone, and he was so angry at the world. Now he’s home to stay, and he’s smiling again all the time. That’s because of you.”
I threw my arms around Parker in a hug. “I love him so much.”
“I know you do,” she said.
“And I love you. I’m so happy we’re going to be sisters.”
I let her go, both of us wiping our eyes. Parker clicked the screen of her tablet back on. “I’m buying this right now. You’re sure you love it?” She showed me the dress again, and my heart pulsed.
“I’m sure,” I said. “I love it.”
And that was it. The last piece we had to put into place.
I thought we were finished with hiccups on our way to wedded bliss, but later that afternoon, I got a call from Lydia’s attorney. West had been keeping me updated. Lydia’s attorney was pushing for court-mandated therapy as opposed to jail time.
If her lawyer had called in the weeks after she’d taken Nicky, I might have hung up on him. The fear had been too fresh. I still didn’t like to think about those hours she’d had Nicky. Weeks later, I was still furious at what she’d put us all through and deeply uncomfortable with the level of crazy it had taken for her to think she could kidnap Nicky and get away with it.
If not for Nicky’s quick thinking, she might have pulled it off and taken my son from me. But in the months that had passed since Nicky’s safe return, every time I thought of the agony of Nicky going missing, of not knowing where my son was, not knowing if I’d get him back, I remembered that Lydia had lost her son. She’d lost Oliver forever. She’d never get him back. Her grief didn’t excuse what she’d done, but it made me think.
How much worse was it to know she’d lost Oliver through his own decisions—and hers? I couldn’t imagine trying to live with that kind of guilt.
On that afternoon in late January, Lydia’s attorney asked me to write a letter supporting his request for therapy for her, instead of jail time. I told him I’d think about it and hung up. That night I lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling, until Finn rolled over.
“Out with it,” he said, nudging my shoulder. “What’s keeping you up? Are you still thinking about Lydia?”
I nodded. I’d told him about the attorney’s request, but we hadn’t had time to talk about it. “What do you think I should do? Am I an idiot if I write that letter?”
Finn stared at me for a long moment and shook his head. “I think you should do what you think is right.”
“I can’t imagine ever being okay leaving her alone with Nicky,” I said. “Not after what happened. But I do think she needs help, not prison, and—” I rolled over, propping myself up on my elbows. “I don’t know, Finn. If something happened to Nicky, and I’d played a part in it—” Tears welled in my eyes at the thought of what Lydia must be feeling. “I told her she was going to kill Oliver, and then he died from pills she gave him. I don’t know how she can live with that. I think I’d go a little insane too.”
Finn rolled me into his arms, brushing his lips over my temple. “Then write the letter. You won’t be able to live with yourself if you don’t.”
I shifted against him, snuggling in, my head on his chest, the reassuring thump of his heart under my ear. The next morning, I wrote the letter. I didn’t know how much it would help, but it took a weight off my heart knowing I’d done what I could. I didn’t know if we’d ever find our way to any kind of relationship, but if she was willing to work on getting better, I was willing to at least consider it. Later. Now was for me, Finn, and Nicky, and the family we’d make together.