Chapter 15
your Grace
Cecily
I pace the living room, the sound of my own footsteps the only thing breaking the silence.
My hands won’t stay still—clasping together, then lifting to rake through my hair, then falling uselessly at my sides.
Every few seconds, I replay her words, trying to make sense of them, but all I find is static.
Maya’s voice. Her eyes. The bitterness in her tone, as if it came from somewhere far deeper than hate.
The things she said—about her mother, about my dad—don’t fit with the man I’ve known my entire life. The man I trusted without question.
I tell myself she’s lying. Twisting the truth. Saying whatever she needs to hurt me. But then I remember the way her voice broke… and my stomach turns.
And the flowers.
It can’t be true. It can’t.
The glass doors slide open.
“Mom, are you okay?” Alicia’s voice cuts through the fog. “It was getting really cold, so I came inside before you called me.”
“It’s okay,” I say, taking a slow breath before turning to her. I force a small smile. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you in sooner.”
She studies me for a moment, but she doesn’t ask anything more.
Before I can think of what to say next, Ethan appears at the door leading to the garage, car keys in his hand. The moment his eyes meet mine, concern takes over his face.
“Mom… did something happen?” he asks, his brows furrowing.
He sounds younger than he is, and that alone nearly breaks me.
“I’m fine,” I lie. “I just need to stop by your grandparents’ house for a few minutes, alright? There’s something I need to talk to them about.”
They exchange a look, the kind siblings share when they both know something’s wrong, but choose not to say it out loud.
I kiss them each on the forehead, remind them not to let anyone in while I’m gone, then grab my purse and car keys.
My hands are still shaking.
Inside the car, I sit there for a long moment before turning the engine on. Every deep breath I try to take only makes the air feel more suffocating.
Finally, once my breathing steadies, I pull out my phone and press call.
It rings once. Twice.
“Colin,” I whisper into the empty car, “we need to talk.”
My hands are trembling when I press the doorbell.
Less than a minute later, my mother opens the door. Her forehead creases the moment she sees me.
“I didn’t know you’d be stopping by today. You look pale. Are you alright?” she asks, stepping aside so I can come in.
“No. I’m not. I need to talk to Dad.”
He’s in the living room when I step inside. Book in his lap, the same calm presence that used to make me feel safe.
He smiles when he sees me, stands, arms open. But for the first time in my life, I don’t want to hug my father.
When he realizes I haven’t moved, his arms fall to his sides, confusion darkening his expression.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
“I need to talk to you. Alone. It’s important.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see my mother approaching, standing beside him.
“What could be so important that you’re acting this strange, Cecily?” she asks, her voice thick with worry.
“I’d rather speak to Dad alone, Mom. It’s better that way.”
Her posture shifts, defensive.
“Your father doesn’t hide things from me,” she says. “Whatever it is, you can say it in front of both of us.”
I look at them. United, solid, the picture of a perfect marriage.
The kind of love I once wanted for myself. The kind I built my life around.
And for a moment, I wonder if she knows. If saying it out loud will break her heart the way mine has already been broken.
I take a sharp breath. “It’s about Graceline.”
My mother stumbles backward as if I’d slapped her. The color drains from her face.
“H–How do you know that name?” she whispers, her voice trembling with fear and fury. “Who told you about her?”
“Did you already know?” I ask, my voice caught somewhere between relief—that it isn’t me breaking her heart—and the sharp sting of disappointment for being kept in the dark.
When my mother doesn’t answer, when she won’t even look at me, I keep going.
“Her daughter was at my house less than half an hour ago. She told me everything.”
My father closes his eyes and turns his back to me.
He stands there, rigid.
My mother lowers herself into the armchair Dad was sitting in just moments ago, her hands trembling as they grip the armrests, as if the weight of the truth might pull her under.
When he finally turns back, his expression has changed. Calmer. Almost detached.
“I don’t know what that girl told you, but I can assure you, much of it can’t be true.”
“She’s not a girl, Dad. She’s a woman now. The same woman Colin had an affair with. Maya—his assistant.” My voice breaks on her name.
My mother gasps.
“That woman’s daughter is the one who seduced Colin?” she says, pressing a trembling hand to her chest, her voice rising in disbelief. “My God… how could she do that after what her own mother did?”
My gaze shifts to my father. His brow is deeply furrowed.
“His assistant?” he murmurs.
“Yes,” I say, keeping my eyes on him, searching for even the slightest sign of recognition. “You must have seen her at the lunch we hosted in November—the one celebrating the acquisition deal. You really didn’t recognize her?”
“Of course not.” His response is immediate. “I barely saw that girl a few times, and it was so long ago. There’s no way I would have recognized her.” His tone is firm, almost offended.
“She said you and her mother were together for almost a year,” I say in a low voice. “That you even went to her school plays when she was a kid.”
My heart twists painfully as I watch him. Processing, calculating, deciding what to admit and what to bury.
“All lies!” my mother bursts out, stepping toward me, her voice trembling.
“Your father made a mistake, yes—but it was nothing serious. It only happened a few times. She was young, beautiful, and he was foolish enough to give in to temptation. But he regretted it, Cecily. He ended it the moment he realized what really mattered.”
Her voice hitches, desperation bleeding through every word.
“You shouldn’t believe a single thing that woman said. Especially not someone who went on to seduce your husband.”
“Who am I supposed to trust? You and Dad, who never told me anything?” I say, my voice firm, the hurt clear enough to make her take a step back.
“Why won’t you let Dad speak, Mom?” I add. “He’s the one who had the affair.”
I turn to him just as he sits down on the couch, his shoulders heavy.
“It was almost fourteen years ago, Cecily. A meaningless affair. It didn’t last more than two or three months,” he says, rubbing his forehead. “It was just me and your mother here after you got married and moved out. I was lonely on a trip I took for a conference, and... it happened.”
“You’re lying.” My voice shakes, but my eyes don’t move from his face.
“I’m not,” he says evenly.
I can feel my throat tighten, heat flooding my chest. “No, you are. It’s written all over your face. In every answer. It’s the same look Colin had. The same lies.”
He exhales slowly, meeting my eyes, but there’s no honesty there anymore.
“I’m telling you the truth. That woman meant nothing to me. It was a mistake—a stupid, fleeting moment of weakness.”
I shake my head, my eyes stinging as the words come out.
“She told me about the flowers. Red roses for her mother… your Grace. And daisies for her.”
My voice breaks, trembling under the weight of it.
“You always brought us flowers too, every weekend. white roses for Mom and pink tulips for me.”
He doesn’t answer at first. Then, with a sigh. “It happened once. The last time I saw them. Just a kind gesture, nothing more. Men from my generation give flowers. It didn’t mean anything romantic.”
Where is my father? Who is this man?
“Did you know her mother killed herself wearing the last dress you gave her?” I ask, my voice barely holding together.
He flinches.
It’s the only honest reaction I’ve seen from him since I walked in.
“It’s tragic, yes,” he says finally. “Every life lost is a profound sadness. But I can’t be blamed for that. If she was mentally unstable, her family should have made sure she got the help she needed.”
Nothing he says makes me believe Maya is the one lying. I don’t recognize him. He’s not the man who taught me kindness… not the father I trusted my whole life.
“You’re not going to tell me the truth, are you?”
A tear slips down my cheek, and I wipe it away roughly. “It’s the same all over again. The same as Colin. ‘It was nothing’. ‘It was a mistake’. All lies.”
“You’re letting what happened between you and Colin cloud your judgment,” my mother says, stepping closer. “You shouldn’t—"
I turn to her, disbelief and disappointment flooding my chest.
“Shouldn’t see the truth? Keep pretending everything’s fine? That nothing’s changed?” I turn my back on them both.
Suddenly, the house that once felt safe feels wrong. Like the lies have tainted the walls themselves.
“I can explain what happened,” my father says behind me, his voice unsteady now. “You’ll understand—it doesn’t change who I am.”
He pauses, and I hear cautious footsteps approach. “I’m still your father. The same man who makes your favorite hot chocolate. The one you can talk to about anything.”
When his hand touches my shoulder, I flinch.
“I can’t do this anymore,” I whisper, my chest tightening.
And I walk away.
He calls my name, but I don’t turn back. I rush out the door, slamming it behind me.
In the car, I rest my forehead against the steering wheel, fighting to steady my breathing, to hold the tears in.
But they come anyway.
I grab my phone with trembling hands and send a single text.