I nodded, understanding, but still so sorry, and so sad that Lottie couldn’t have someone without complications.
A town car pulled up, but Lottie lingered.
“I’m sorry—” Lottie started.
Grayson held up his hand, stopping her. A silence descended, and he rubbed his forehead with the same hand.
“I am.”
“If I accept your apology, I feel like I have to accept it’s your fault. And it’s not.”
She shifted on her feet. “But I did wrong.”
“We all did, Lottie. I never wanted to do this to you…I never wanted to make you my mother. To leave your heart out to rot.”
“It’s not rotted,” she said softly. “It’s just a little rusted.”
He worked his jaw, in the way I knew he was about to drop some kind of ultimatum. “I’ll accept your apology, but you have to promise not to disappear from our lives.”
I perked up. I know she had a lot she needed to learn about herself, but I didn’t want Lottie to disappear. I was actually going to miss her.
“I can’t promise that,” she whispered.
After her luggage was put away and her child safely secured, we all lingered.
“Well, goodbye,” Lottie said.
“Good luck, Lottie,” Gray said.
I looked between all three of us. This couldn’t be how it ended, quietly as we all stare at the vines in the marble.
I rushed Lottie, pulling her into a hug. She froze, in my embrace, arms at either side.
“I’m going to miss you,” I said, face pressed into her creamy, periwinkle jacket.
“I…” Lottie swallowed. “I will too.”
Her hand found my back, timid but there all the same.
I stepped back, swiping my nose. Her car was waiting for her, and she had to go. After everything, it was bittersweet watching her get in the glossy car.
She waved as the door shut.
Jack was walking down the long, cobblestone driveway and her car drove by him. He paused, watching it go through the gates, a distant look in his eyes. Almost like he wasn’t letting it go—letting her go.
I hoped for her sake that she would find someone uncomplicated. Someone easy.
Sonnet still slept soundly in Grayson’s arm, curled into his bicep. He looked like he belonged in this role, and every time I saw him with her, I got tangled up in heat.
His head dropped, as if reading my thoughts.
Grayson pulled my hand to his lips. “What was that about my wife needing to be fucked?”
I curled into his touch. “What was that about my husband fucking me—”
“Ah, am I interrupting?”
He froze with my hand still to his lips, eyes lifting over my shoulder. I looked over my shoulder, though I didn’t need to.