I ignore his question. “I think Heather figured out that we’d fallen in love. I think that’s when she decided to frame you. I think she wrote those diary entries; she set you up to take the fall alone. She knew you wouldn’t bring her down with you, because of your children.”
“Do you still love me?” Burke repeats the question, his voice a thin whisper.
“Yes.”
“How is that possible?”
“Love doesn’t just evaporate overnight, Burke. And, yeah, sometimes I hate you so much I feel like my head is going to split open.” I pause, the contrasting emotions battling inside me, fighting for dominance. “I hate you for lying to me. I hate that there are all these things I never knew about you, like what really happened with your parents and where you grew up and the fact that you have kids, Jesus Christ. But, I mean, you’re still you. I can’t just stop loving you.”
“Goose.” Burke reaches for my hand, tears brimming his eyes. “I love you, too, but I—I still meant what I said in my letter. Love isn’t always enough. What if it’s not enou—”
“Look. You deceived me, you broke my heart, you destroyed me. But you also made me believe in a kind of love I never thought I deserved. You connected me with a part of myself I’d abandoned. You did that for me, Burke. And I don’t know if we should be together, I really don’t. I mean, I have this new internship in social work and I’m trying to figure out my career path, my next move, if I even want to stay in this city. And you need to serve your probation and figure out what you’re doing with your life. We can’t just crash back into each other, Burke—we need to fix ourselves first. But with that said, what I do know is that there needs to be the possibility of us, of our love. I couldn’t just throw that away and live with myself. And you’re a good father. Your children need you. Those are the reasons I couldn’t testify. And I’m going to drop the civil suit, too.”
“Really?” His voice is barely a whisper.
“Yes. And I’m not going to go after Heather, either. Neither will my father. I can promise you that.”
“But—but what about the money? She took two million dollars.”
“Burke, it doesn’t matter. She can have it. If my mother did what Heather claims, she’s owed that at the very least. My dad even said that they tried to give her money after what happened to her brother. Clearly my parents felt they owed her something.” I don’t tell Burke about my coffee shop meeting with Heather. I don’t know that I ever will. Somehow it feels like the kind of thing that Burke doesn’t need to know.
“But it’s two million dollars, Skye. I know how much your parents offered Heather, and it wasn’t close to that. It’s your family’s money.”
“It’s my money. It’s part of my inheritance. And, no, it’s not an insignificant amount to give up. But for the chance to put the past behind us? The chance for you and me, for us … it’s worth a lot more than that, Goose.”
Tears run down Burke’s face, and I feel my own eyes fill. Then he smiles—his biggest, most genuine smile that’s nearly a laugh—and I watch those precious dimples deepen on either cheek.
“I hope you know how much I love you, Skye Starling. I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you.” Burke blinks, his eyelashes thick and wet. “You’re a miracle.”
“But I still want an annulment.”
He nods slowly. “That makes sense. Our marriage was never real.”
I shake my head. “Besides, we were never ready to get married.”
“No, I suppose we weren’t.” Burke’s gaze pierces mine, cornflower blue. “But I’ll tell you this, Goose. One day we will be ready. You may not know it, but I do. And when that time comes, it’ll be the real deal.” Burke interlaces his fingers in mine, and an electric current runs through my body. “What do we do now?”
“I don’t know.” I study every detail of his face, every little mark and corner that I’ve missed so desperately.
“Your dad is really okay with this?”
“Not entirely.” I swallow. “But he’ll get there. Nancy understands, and she’ll help my father do the same.”
“Nancy?” Burke looks surprised, but a grin plays at the corners of his lips. “You’ve been talking to Nancy about this?”
“Yeah. I’ll tell you all about it later.”
“Can you tell me about it now? And your new internship, I want to hear about that, too. Can we grab a coffee? If you’re able?”
I nod, unable to suppress my smile. God, it feels good to smile again, to feel so happy that the joy bursts from your body, to feel so free. “I have lunch with the girls at two. But nothing until then. I took the day off.”
“Lunch with the girls on a weekday? Did they … know what you were going to do today? At the hearing, I mean.”
“I looped them in. They’re a pretty supportive bunch, you know. Though it’ll take them a while to forgive you.”
“I could never blame them.” We walk back down the hallway, toward our future, the open, unknowable road of it. “Hey, Skye?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you realize that when we left the courtroom earlier, you didn’t do your knocks on the door?”
I stop midstep. I replay the scene in my head. Burke is right. I walked out without even thinking about my knocks. Without feeling any urge to do them. No compulsion seized me. How was it possible? Dr. Salam had always said that one day my compulsions might cease to exist—that they might stop serving their purpose—but I don’t think I ever fully believed it. Until now.
“I didn’t, did I?” I look up at Burke, and my voice breaks into a small laugh.
“No, you didn’t.” He leans down slightly, and for a second I think he’s going to kiss me, and I know I’m not ready for that, and maybe he can tell, because he draws his shoulders back. “Not that it matters to me. I’ll love you either way.”
“I know.” I look into his eyes. “I really do know that.”
“Good.”
“What if this is a new beginning, Burke?”
There in the hallway of the courthouse, my soon-to-be ex-husband extends his hand. “Hi. What’s your name?”
“I’m Skye Starling.” I touch my palm to his, and it feels like home.
“Nice to meet you, Skye.” His grin is wide and bright. “My name is Burke Michaels.”
Epilogue
Heather
New Canaan is so much fucking nicer than New Haven, you have no idea. I’ve been here several months now, and I’m telling you, this town is the dream.
Nicer than Westport, even, and I’m not just saying that to make myself feel better. I bagged the plan to move there—I had to, I realized after Skye confronted me in the coffee shop last winter. She claimed to know I was behind the Big Plan; she insinuated that her father knew it, too, after pinpointing my old connection to Libby. So as much as I’d been dying to move to Westport, as much as I loved the house I was about to put an offer on two days before Skye Facebook-messaged me—the master bath had heated floors—I couldn’t go through with it. I couldn’t live in a town where I’d fear the sight of Peter Starling’s face every time I left my property. The Starlings were still Westport residents, and they hated me, and I needed a clean break from the past. A fresh start.