Chapter 16 #2
The sound of his paws pattering down the stairway is accompanied by Mr. Donovan’s gruff voice, commanding the pup to “Shush, you furball.”
Peanut falls silent just as the door swings open, revealing Mr. Donovan’s stern visage, his bushy eyebrows furrowed.
Ah, shit.
I muster up a shy smile, feeling about as small as a mouse under his piercing gaze. He doesn’t utter a word, just steps aside with a barely perceptible nod, granting me entry into the warm home. Crossing the threshold, Peanut trots over, his wet nose investigating my ankles with great interest.
“Hey, buddy,” I coo at him, wishing I could give him a good scratch behind the ears, but my hands are frustratingly occupied with my peace offerings.
Gathering my courage, I look up at Mr. Donovan, only to find his scowl has intensified. It’s uncanny how much he resembles Grey in this moment, and I half expect him to launch into a lecture about proper security protocols.
My nerves getting the better of me, I thrust the cake and book forward, my voice coming out as barely more than a squeak. “I, um… I brought you a strawberry cake. And a book for Morgan.”
For a heart-stopping moment, I’m convinced he’s going to send me back out again, only to slam the door in my face and tell me never to darken his doorstep again. But then he takes my offerings and places them on a nearby antique dresser before he grasps my elbow and pulls me into a bear hug.
His voice is gruff, thick with emotion, as he rumbles, “Don’t you ever pull a stunt like that again, young lady. I was worried sick, and at my age, I can’t afford that kind of stress. You hear me?”
Overwhelmed by his unexpected display of affection, I wrap my arms around him, burying my face in the soft fabric of his cardigan. The scent of old wood fills my nostrils as I whisper, words muffled and choked with emotion, “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. It won’t happen again, I promise.”
“Amelia!” Morgan’s shout is followed by the sound of her footsteps racing down the stairs.
As I pull away from Mr. Donovan, I barely have a moment to catch my breath before Morgan’s arms wrap around me tightly.
“Don’t you dare scare us like that again.
” Despite her scolding tone, I can hear the genuine joy in her voice as she adds, “I’m so glad you’re back. ”
Her embrace is comforting, and I find myself melting into it, realizing just how much I’d missed them.
Morgan releases me, and her eyes fall on the book I brought. “Oh, is this for me?”
“Yes. Thank you for watching the fish,” I say, smiling and handing it to her.
Her smile seems oddly forced from a moment when I mention the fish. But it’s gone so quickly that I wonder if I imagined it.
What is that about?
Mr. Donovan clears his throat, his eyes twinkling with warmth. “Let’s have some of that cake in the kitchen, shall we?” We make our way to the table, Peanut trotting alongside us.
The moment I sit down, he rests his head on my knee, and finally, I give him the pets he deserves. “Oh, I missed you, too, buddy.” I scratch behind his ears, feeling the tension in my shoulders ease a bit as he looks up at me with those adoring eyes.
Morgan chuckles. “Looks like you missed the dog more than us.”
Mr. Donovan cuts the cake, and as we settle in with slices, he asks, “So, what happened? Grey and Oliver just texted out of the blue that you were all flying back.” His tone is gentle, but there is a notable underlying concern.
Well, here we go.
I take a deep breath and recount the events in London, including the disastrous gala. The words tumble out, a mix of frustration, hurt, and confusion.
God, saying it out loud like this only makes me realize more how fucked up all of that was.
When I finish, Morgan leans forward, her green eyes filled with concern. “That was a lot, you’re okay?”
I huff a laugh. “For the most part.”
“I’m sorry about how this all turned out. I was never a fan of your father’s, but… I’m sorry,” Mr. Donovan says.
I just nod. He’s the least to blame.
Morgan puts a hand on my knee. “But is everything okay between you all now, at least?”
I hesitate for a moment, feeling their eyes on me.
The weight of their gaze makes me fidget with the hem of my shirt.
“I thought it was. They apologized, and I was sure we were fine, but…” I trail off, struggling to find the right words.
“When I got home, I felt this strange sense of distrust. Somehow, it all came rushing back. I hate myself for it, but I don’t know how to shake it. ”
Did I really just say this out loud? I sound crazy.
Mr. Donovan nods sagely, his weathered hand reaching out to pat mine.
“Trust is earned, Amelia. Forgiving something is the first step toward trusting again, but that doesn’t mean everything immediately goes back to how it was…
” He pauses, his eyes kind but serious. “It’s normal to feel this way, but you need to tell the boys what you’re feeling.
Give them time and a chance to earn that trust back.
They’ve earned your forgiveness. Now they need to earn your trust.”
“Isn’t it unfair of me? Telling them it’s forgiven only to turn around and be wary again?” I ask, barely above a whisper.
Mr. Donovan squeezes my hand, his gaze unwavering.
“It’s not, as long as you don’t pull away.
They might not fully grasp the depth of your hurt, but if you speak to them honestly, they will start to see it.
Sometimes, people need to hear the raw truth to truly understand the impact of their actions.
And remember, Amelia, trust isn’t just about them proving themselves to you.
It’s also about you feeling safe enough to let your guard down. It’s a two-way street.”
“You’re probably right,” I admit, feeling a small weight lift off my chest.
I didn’t ruin everything.
Morgan chuckles, her eyes twinkling. “He always is.”
The smile that blooms on Mr. Donovan’s face warms my heart. But the moment is interrupted by a series of buzzes from my phone. I glance down to see messages flooding our group chat.
Grey
Where are you?
Misha
What grumpy here wants to say is we wanted to take you to a late lunch.
Or early dinner.
Linner?
Dunch?
Oliver
We wanted to get food, but you’re not home.
Misha
You okay?
I bite my lip, conflicted. I’m not really ready to go back to normal, but I promised myself I wouldn’t ghost any of them again, especially Grey. Taking a deep breath, I type out a response:
I’m over at Mr. Donovan’s, and we’re eating cake with Morgan. We can grab lunch tomorrow at work if you want?
Misha
Of course we want.
Oliver
Excited to see you soon. Enjoy.
Grey
Thank you, Princess.
Setting my phone down, I bite my cheek.
Was I too harsh?
“Whatever it is, it can wait until you talk to them about your feelings,” Mr. Donovan says, dishing me another piece of cake.
He’s right.
Again.
I smile at him and force myself to enjoy this moment of peace with them, surrounded by their care and the sweetness of strawberry cake.
I can handle everything else tomorrow.