Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 74730 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74730 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Not now.
Not ever.
“I wanted to tell you how sorry I am.” His careful gaze floats to mine again, but he winces as if he’s afraid to keep it there for too long.
Good.
He should be fucking terrified.
He’s lucky we’re on two opposite sides of a wall and there are half a dozen guards on standby or this wouldn’t end well for him.
I haven’t arranged for it yet, but I know people who know people on the inside. If he thinks life behind bars is bad now, he has no idea that his life is about to get insurmountably worse in every way imaginable.
Our eyes hold in a stand-off of sorts. I assume he’s trying to read me so he can gauge where to go next with this conversation, but I keep poker-straight.
This asshole has manipulated me—and our family—for too long.
Not to mention, he manipulated Campbell into befriending him, confiding in him, trusting him to take her out on the water.
“I made a mistake,” Oliver says, his lower lip quivering. “I messed up. So big. I wasn’t thinking straight. I was desperate. I was—”
“I don’t care what your reason was. You tried to kill my wife. You tried to kill me,” I say. “After everything I’ve done for you … after everything my father and mother did for you? You were more than my uncle, you were my brother, my best friend, and the fact that you did what you did …”
My fist clenches and from the corner of my eye, I spot one of the uniformed guards watching me. I can’t cause a scene or I’ll be asked to leave.
Lowering my voice, I say my final piece. “You tried to kill us, but you’re the one who’s dead now. You’re dead to me, you’re dead to my father, you’re dead to Campbell, you’re dead to the world.” Pointing to the door behind me, I add, “I just want you to know, while you rot in here for the rest of your life, that not a single person out there is going to miss you or give a flying fuck about you ever again. I hope it was worth it.”
Slamming the receive down, I walk out, head held high, turning my back on the one person I never dreamed would betray me, and when I get home, I find refuge in the arms of the one woman I never dreamed would love me.
Life is strange and unpredictable.
But it always has a way of giving us exactly what we deserve in the end.
Epilogue
5 years later
Slade
Mom—
It’s been a little more than five years since we said goodbye, so I figured it was time to send you an update. It’s Thanksgiving today, and I’ve snuck upstairs to write you this letter.
Dad brought your old recipe book over and Fiona is making your famous sage brown butter dressing. It won’t taste the same without your special touch, but we thought it would be a nice way to honor your memory. Why we haven’t done this sooner is beyond me, but we’ve decided it’s going to be a tradition going forward. We do that now—traditions. We’re like some corny All-American family you’d see on a 90s sitcom, but we’re loving every minute of it.
Can you believe that? You’re probably cracking up wherever you are, watching me chase my kids around, host my in-laws, and talk about family traditions. You’d also get a kick out of watching Dad become a grandfather. He retired a few years ago, passing the company reins to me, and when he isn’t on the golf course, he’s at our house tossing the twins in the pool and giving them “pony rides,” tickling them until they’re doubled over with laughter, and playing infinite rounds of CandyLand and Chutes and Ladders. It’d been so long, I almost forgot this version of him existed. It’s good to have him back.
Campbell is the most incredible mother, too. She dotes on our babies hand and foot. She reads them every book under the sun. Sings to them. Gets down on the floor and plays with them. Takes them to music classes, readings at the library, and everything else she can do to expose them to all the little meaningful this world has to offer. She even refused to let me hire a nanny. We still have Fiona, and she’s a great help around the house, but as far as the kids go, it’s just the two of us—well, mostly Campbell. The kids prefer her over me anyway, though everyone tells me that’s normal. I guess I get it. You were always the one I’d run to first instead of dad. Mothers just have that something special that most men don’t. But I digress.
Adelia and Adrian turned four last month. Their birthday is the day before Halloween, so we had a costume birthday party. It went about how you’d expect when you combine twenty small children and a plethora of sugar all in one place, but they had the time of their little lives and Campbell documented every minute of it so we can look back someday and relive every second of it.