Epilogue 02 #2
“Your brother... he couldn’t make it in time?” I ask, glancing toward the front house where Ethan stays when he’s here, half-expecting to see his car.
“He said he’d meet us at the restaurant.”
I nod, relieved.
My relationship with Ethan was never the same after everything that happened. But gradually, it’s been rebuilt on new ground. We talk every week. And at least once a month, when he comes to see his mother and siblings, we have dinner together.
“Dad.”
I turn at the sound of his voice, a smile spreading across my face.
That’s another thing that changed. Two years ago, Ethan started calling me Dad again. And I will never take that for granted.
When he reaches me, he pulls me into a quick hug, punctuated by two firm pats on my back.
“Happy birthday,” he says with a grin. “If you keep up the same gym routine, you could easily pass for forty-eight.”
I scoff. “You know damn well I am turning forty-eight today. What is it with you two and my age? Time comes for everyone.”
They laugh.
“I’ll meet you guys there?” Ethan asks.
I nod and pull him in for one more hug. “Thanks for coming today.”
He smiles, squeezes my shoulder, and heads toward the garage.
“I can’t wait to get my license next month,” Alicia says with a sigh as we get into the car.
“I’ll keep picking you up whenever we go out together,” I reply, settling in behind the wheel.
She huffs.
Her hand brushes mine just before I start the engine. I turn to her, and she’s watching me with a smile.
“Dad... are you happy?”
I don’t hesitate. “Much more than I ever thought I could be again. I have you and Ethan.”
I lean over and kiss her forehead.
As I pull away from the curb, turn onto the next street, and merge into traffic, she speaks again.
“You know... if you ever want a new girlfriend, I swear I won’t do the jealous-daughter thing.
I was cool with Hannah. Just, please, don’t date someone almost my age.
Like Conrad’s dad. That’s just... gross. ”
She shudders, her face twisting in disgust.
I laugh as I take a left turn. “You’ll never have to worry about that.”
Hannah was a nice woman, but things didn’t work out. The kids liked her and handled the breakup fine. What I don’t mention to Alicia is that I’ve been seeing someone new for two months now. It’s casual, and I’m not sure where it’s going, so for now, I’m not introducing her to them.
“But seriously, Dad,” she says, “I wouldn’t mind.”
The light turns red. I glance at her and lift a hand to her cheek.
“I love you, sweetheart. And thank you for wanting to take care of me.”
She smiles. When the light turns green, I pull back into traffic.
I don’t know what the future holds. But here, in this moment, I’ve learned to be content with what I rebuilt. And to never take for granted the people I love most.
Never again.
Houston, Texas
Ellen
I finish smoothing my low bun, swipe on my nude lipstick, and straighten up to study my reflection in the mirror. The pale pink suit fits beautifully, hugging my figure in all the right places. I’d even go so far as to say it makes me look a few years younger.
Smiling to myself, I grab my purse and step out of my bedroom. I walk down the hallway to the last room and find the nurse wiping his mouth as she stands, holding the tray with what’s left of his afternoon snack.
As soon as she sees me, she says, “He didn’t eat much today, Mrs. Sterling, but I’ll make sure they prepare something more nutritious for dinner that still fits his diet.”
I nod, thank her, and walk into his room.
I take a seat in the armchair across from him, my posture perfectly straight as his eyes barely meet mine.
“Miss me, Philip?” I ask evenly. “Sorry I’ve been away the past few days. But you know how it is—I had other priorities. And I know Evelyn, Carla, and Jackson have been taking good care of you,” I add, referring to his two nurses and the private chef.
My priority last week was a short cruise through Central America with my sister Emma and a few of her widowed friends.
It was the fifth one I’ve gone on with them in the last two years. And honestly, it’s been a lot more fun than I ever expected.
That’s one of the things that changed the most after I moved to Houston. Not only did I reconnect with my sister, but I started doing something I didn’t even think I was capable of anymore… having fun. Really enjoying life.
My mind goes back to a little over three years ago, when Philip was transferred to the rehabilitation center here in Houston.
The ground was pulled out from under me. I was practically pushed out of the home I had spent years caring for and cherishing. Every flower I planted with love, every room where I oversaw the smallest details.
It was either that or stay and endure the looks of pity and disgust from the neighbors.
And all of it because of a man I gave my whole life and heart to. And what did I get in return? Scraps.
For years, I looked the other way. For years, I told myself it was just a phase. The women, every single one of them, temporary. What mattered was that he always came back to me. I was his wife. In the end, it would always be just the two of us.
But it wasn’t. The temporary became routine. He didn’t even bother hiding it anymore.
What I never expected was for him to risk so much.
Especially after his past had already spilled over into our daughter’s life.
And certainly not to the point of having an affair with one of our neighbors.
Our family name, something that once filled me with pride, became nothing but a source of shame.
Coming here and seeing the judgment in my sister’s eyes, especially when I had to stay in her house, wasn’t easy. But I swallowed my pride. I tried so hard to hold my head high, but it took everything in me.
How do you keep up appearances when everything you value most is falling apart?
“I warned you, Ellen. You should’ve left that bastard the very first time.”
My sister’s voice still rings loud and clear in my head. She said it over and over during the arguments we had right after I moved here.
The “first time” she meant was when Philip had an affair with one of his assistants, back when Cecily was only nine. It almost turned into a full-blown scandal, but the university managed to bury it.
Hurt, humiliated, completely lost… I packed two small suitcases, took Cecily, and flew to Houston, where my sister welcomed us with open arms, a shoulder to cry on, and plenty of advice.
“You are not going to turn into our mother—accepting and forgiving cheating,” she would say in that firm, no-nonsense tone. “You’re going to divorce that bastard. You and Cecily can stay with us, and we’ll figure it out.”
I didn’t argue. I just cried.
Two days after we arrived, Philip came after us. He was remorseful. He apologized. He explained how it happened and swore it would never happen again. At first, I was too hurt to even consider it. But little by little, he convinced me to come back home.
Emma was against it. She tried everything to make me stay. She had even spoken to a lawyer for me.
“He’s not our father, Emma. Philip loves me. He respects me.”
Our father had no character, no morals. He slept with half the women in town, and everyone knew it. Rumor had it he had a few illegitimate children out there, but none of them ever came forward after his death, or our mother’s.
Believing Philip was different, I went back. For our family, I stayed. And for a long time, I didn’t regret it. He had always been a good husband, but after that, he became an even better one. We were happy.
Until Grace.
When it happened again, like I told Cecily, I did everything I could to deny it, to pretend it wasn’t real. Until I couldn’t anymore. And when he promised me, again, that it would never happen, I believed him. All those years, he had made me happy. It was just another mistake.
At first, he went back to being a devoted husband, more than devoted, even. He stopped traveling. But when the trips started again, so did the doubts.
By then, I chose to look the other way. Philip had already proven that, in the end, he would always choose me.
And he was all I had. My entire life revolved around him.
I didn’t have a life of my own, I hadn’t built anything independently, I didn’t have a career.
If I walked away, what would I have to hold on to?
So I adapted. I learned to be content with what we had. He went on his trips… but he always came back to me. And that was enough.
It could have stayed that way forever. But it was never enough for him. He always wanted more.
It took a long time for me to see things the way I do now. Back then, I truly believed that life made me happy. That it was enough.
Letting go of that belief felt like grieving. And maybe, in a way, I was. The version of me who married and loved the man sitting in front of me—that woman died.
My focus sharpens again, and I study him. Slumped in the armchair, one side of his face slack and pulled downward, his eyes locked on me. Today, he’s not even a shadow of the man he once was.
That proud man, the one who commanded attention the moment he walked into a room, no longer exists. He’s been receiving the best care money can buy, ensuring he’ll live comfortably for however long he has left.
All of it paid for by our daughter’s husband, Alexander Santoro.
Just thinking his name makes me smile. I thank God every day that Cecily found a love like that. That she didn’t repeat my mistakes. That she was strong where I was weak. That she held her head high and walked away when I chose to stay and endure.
Alexander reached out to me a few months after the transfer. When I told him we could handle the expenses, he insisted. The only thing he asked in return was that I respect the distance Cecily needed, and that I only reach out to her again when I was truly ready to be the mother she deserved.