Tears fell freely then. There was so much I still couldn’t say, still couldn’t tell her, but somehow, as she wrapped me in a hug, she seemed to understand. “You’re free,” she whispered. “You’re free, love.” She pulled back, brushing tears from my eyes and pointing around the room. “Your kids are free and safe, and you did that.” She poked her finger into my chest. “You. Never forget it.”
“I won’t.”
“I’ll be there to remind you if you do.” She hugged me again.
A knock on the door sounded, and I dusted my cheeks, sniffling. “Come in.”
Matt walked into the room, a large box in his hands. “Where do you want this?”
“Oh, just anywhere you can find a spot.”
He placed the box down and walked toward me, kissing my temple. “Hi, beautiful.” He tilted his head to the side. “Everything okay?”
“Just dust,” I told him, rubbing my palms over my eyes.
“Lots of dust,” Glennon agreed with a dry laugh, wiping tears of her own.
I wrapped one arm around Matt and one around Glennon, my heart so full of happiness, peace, and safety I was sure it was going to explode.
They hugged me back, standing perfectly still, waiting on me to be ready to let them go.
The truth was, I wasn’t sure I’d ever be ready. We were coming up on the anniversary of the day my life imploded, and they expected it to be hard. In truth, I expected it to be hard. But it was the easiest thing I’d ever done.
Living without Peter, building a life entirely my own, was the best thing I’d ever done for myself, for my kids, for my friends. I’d dropped the weight of the family that was supposed to matter—my nonexistent father, backstabbing mother, and monster of a husband—and fully embraced the family I built. Peter may have been the architect, but my designs were a pretty amazing thing to behold. Our life now was a beautiful, peaceful thing.
I’d never known peace like it.
No more voices in my head telling me I wasn’t good enough. Not perfect enough. No more fears that if I lost Peter, I’d lose everything. Now I knew what I wish I’d known then—I didn’t need him. Didn’t need anyone, except my kids.
There was a freedom that came with that. That came with burning it all down and rebuilding. Handpicking every part of your life, every person in your life.
“Did I hear Aunt Glennon?” Maisy cried from upstairs, sounding excited.
“That’s my cue,” she said, dashing away from us.
Matt kissed me again, this time on my lips. “Want to help me bring in the rest of the boxes?”
“It’s all I’ve ever dreamed of.” I chuckled. “I’ll be right there. I just have to take care of something first.”
He rubbed a finger over my cheek, then turned away and made his way out the door. I never thought anyone like Matt could make me happy. Someone so young, so unlike Peter. But his youth brought with it a sense of hope I’d never experienced. A kindness. An attentiveness. Matt treated me as if I was the sun and he was just glad to be in my orbit. The kids had taken a while to warm up to him, but they had. Glennon adored him. He was everything I needed in a package I’d never have chosen.
I mused over how perfectly things had worked out as I sifted through boxes, searching for one in particular that was labeled…
Collectibles—Ainsley
There it was.
I picked up the box and carried it up the stairs, passing Maisy and Glennon in one room as they deliberated over the perfect place to hang a photo, and Riley in the next room, already flopped down in a beanbag chair with a bag of potato chips. His brother sat next to him, laughing about something I hadn’t heard. I moved forward, finding the room that would be mine.
It felt strange. I’d be able to choose the side of the bed I wanted. The entire closet could be mine. I could choose every bit of the decor. There was no one around to argue with anymore.
And there never would be again.
I shut the door behind me, turning the lock, and placed the box on the floor. The old owners of our home had had a floor safe installed, where they’d kept their gun close to their bed. When the realtor had shown it to me, I’d known instantly this was the one.
I reached into the box and retrieved the old black bag, unzipping it and staring inside. It was empty now, all of Peter’s treasures long gone, but I now understood the appeal.
The treasures remind us they were real.
Inside of the bag, there was an envelope.
I pulled it out, checking over my shoulder once to be sure I wasn’t being watched. Then, I turned the envelope over and, with a huff of relieved breath, the kind of breath only freedom could bring, I let the tuft of brown hair fall into my palm.