“He’s a good man.”
“Yeah. I wish…fuck…，” he exhales, “what I wish. And as much as I fucking hate to admit it, they all had every right to their initial reaction. When they were trying to get over it—”
“We screwed the rest up ourselves,” I finish for him.
He gives me a subdued nod.
“Thank you for this,” I say, hugging the manuscript to my chest. “I wonder if my father has read it.”
“He lived it,” Easton says, “but I don’t think so. Mom says her agent and lawyer reached out with the original, and he denied having any part in it.”
“He did?” I shake my head as dozens of answers to questions I never thought to ask circle in my mind. Silence lingers as I start to plug some of the pieces into place.
“You’re going to have a lot to unpack,” Easton supplies, “it will take a little time, but you’ll get through it.”
“My dad was a badass,” I grin, hugging the manuscript a little harder.
“Mine was an asshole,” he says, “and a badass.”
“How do you feel about the part where he…almost—”
“Killed himself?” Easton shakes his head while brushing off his jeans. “I never would have thought him capable of that, but the way I feel sometimes when I get really low, I understand the thoughts… Honestly, I can barely imagine that version of him. Living on a mattress, starving, on a fucking floor.”
“Your mother saved him by washing his hair,” a fast tear forms and falls, and he catches it with his thumb, seeming briefly fascinated by it.
“Jesus, Crowne. You know, you always do this to me. One minute I’m emotionally stable and somewhat put together, and the next, with you, I’m a damn mess.”
“Such a beautiful mess,” he fires back.
I glance around as the sun disappears. “What have you been doing all day?”
“Staring at my beautiful wife.”
“Ex-wife.”
“Right,” he says as he stands and holds out his hand. “Come on, Beauty. I’ll take you home.”
The ride back to my apartment is silent as I mull over what I just read, which felt more like what I lived. Our parents’ love story in its entirety. Emotions swirl in my chest as my mind races with the knowledge we both have now.
Joel pulls the SUV to a stop two buildings away from mine and parks between two cars to keep us hidden. When he exits, a strange energy rolls off Easton, who sits next to me, his gaze trained out his passenger window. I can’t get a clear read on him as I soak in his profile—as much as I can in the dark cabin of the SUV.
“So, now we both know,” I state the obvious, my perception shifting by the second. “Do you…feel like it was a mistake…like we were a mistake?”
“Never, and I never fucking will,” his declaration strikes deep. “So yeah, now we both know,” he says, his voice hoarse. “It’s funny though.”
“What?”
“Their story doesn’t change the significance of ours.” I manage to catch him licking the corner of his mouth as he keeps his gaze on the car parked next to him.
“So, do we try to forgive each other now?” I ask.
“I want to… See, the thing is, I will never regret us, Beauty, because…” he seems to sort through his words, choosing each carefully—which I hate because it’s new, and I know it’s because of post-apocalyptic Easton and Natalie.
“Because?”
He turns to face me, eyes shimmering. “I can’t recall any other time in my life where I was so blissfully happy.” A tear slowly rolls down his cheek, “Can you?”
The burn starts in my throat, and I choke out my answer while letting my own tears free. “No.”
“If that’s not a sign of something fucking real, something worth fighting for, something worth keeping, then I don’t know fucking anything at all.”
“We tried,” I sniff, my own tears cascading down my cheeks, “didn’t we?”
“We succeeded,” he says, plucking one away, “we really did when we kept everyone else out of it.”
“Until we tore each other apart,” I say. “We…” I shake my head. “We really hurt each other.”
“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I still think the world of you. I still think you’re the most beautiful creature I’ve ever laid eyes on. I will never regret us.”