Chapter 27 Daisy #2
They disappear into the store together, and Ruth appears at my elbow with a fresh cup of coffee. "Your father drove four hours to hand your husband power tools," she observes. "That's practically a blessing in man language."
"Ruth."
"I'm not wrong." She takes a long sip of her own coffee. "Men are simple creatures. They bond through physical labor and shared projects. Your father just chose to share a project with the man who married his daughter. That means something."
I watch through the broken window as Dale and Adam work side by side, my father pointing at a damaged display panel the contractor has cleared them to remove while Adam nods and writes in his notebook. At one point, Dale claps Adam on the shoulder, a brief, casual touch that looks entirely natural.
"Hand me that drill, son," I hear my father say, and Adam passes it over without hesitation.
The knot in my chest finally loosens.
I take the afternoon to sit with what's happened.
It isn't just the fire, though that's part of it.
Everything. Kendra's arraignment, where she was charged with arson and stalking and held pending further proceedings.
Cole is back in custody facing the abduction and assault charges; whether he pleads or makes us go to trial is still ahead of us.
Victor's removal from the chairmanship, followed by the shareholders voting him off the board after the independent committee traced his authorization of the leak, Ingrid's long-overdue decision to end a marriage that had been dead for years.
Lorraine's termination for cause, followed by a formal investigation of how she used confidential company records.
Consequences. Real ones. The kind I never thought I'd see.
I find a quiet corner near what used to be the reading nook, where someone has set up a few salvaged chairs and a box of books that survived the water damage. Chaucer is staying with Nell, safely away from the wreck. He can judge our disaster recovery methods when the work is finished.
The corner is peaceful. Through the missing window, I can see the afternoon light slanting across the sidewalk, warm and golden. I can hear the sounds of people working, talking, laughing. Rebuilding something that was broken. He chose us. And I'm choosing him.
I pull the folded papers from my jacket pocket.
They're copies, the originals are with the lawyers, and tearing them won't actually change anything legal.
We'll have to call the attorneys, formally withdraw the filing, deal with the paperwork that proves our marriage never actually ended.
But this is symbolic. This is me deciding.
I tear them in half. Then in quarters. Then I keep tearing until they're confetti in my hands, tiny pieces of a future I don't want anymore.
"That looked therapeutic."
I look up. Adam is standing a few feet away, sawdust in his hair and a smudge of something dark on his cheek.
He's wearing work clothes (actual work clothes, not the designer jeans he used to think counted as casual) and his hands are dirty and his shoulders are tired and he's looking at me like he's afraid to hope.
"Copies," I say, holding up the handful of paper scraps. "The lawyers still have the originals. But I figured we should call them tomorrow. Tell them to withdraw the filing."
"Daisy." His voice cracks on my name.
"I love you." The words come out easier than I expected, natural and true.
"I've loved you for a long time, probably longer than I wanted to admit.
And I forgive you, not because of the doorframe or the store or running into a burning building, although that was very dramatic and I'm going to give you a hard time about it for years.
I forgive you because I watched you change.
Because you listened when the answers were ugly.
Because you made things right with Dad without asking me to pay you back for it.
Because you kept the small promises when nobody was watching. "
He crosses the distance between us and drops to his knees in front of my chair, taking my hands, the ones still full of paper scraps, in both of his. "Say it again."
"Which part?"
"All of it. Any of it. The part where you love me."
"I love you," I say, and I'm smiling now, I can't help it. "I love you, and I forgive you, and I want to stay married to you, and I'm carrying your baby, and—"
He kisses me. Deep and desperate and tasting like sawdust and coffee, his hands cradling my face like I'm precious, like I'm worth protecting. When he finally pulls back, his eyes are wet.
"I want to ask you to renew our vows properly," he says hoarsely. "Not today (there's too much chaos, and you deserve better than a proposal in a half-burned bookstore) but soon. I want to do it right this time."
"Okay."
"Okay?" He laughs, a slightly unhinged sound. "Just okay?"
"I'm easy to please. Apparently I'll marry any tall, emotionally repressed CEO who shows up to my book club for three months."
"I was not emotionally repressed. I was emotionally cautious."
"You cried at the ending of Beach Read." I level him with a look.
"That book is devastating, Daisy. He wrote her a whole novel. Any reasonable person would cry."
I'm laughing now, really laughing, and he's laughing too, and somewhere behind us I hear Ruth say loudly, "Finally, those two idiots figured it out."
We stay there for a moment longer, foreheads pressed together, close enough to brush noses, and then Adam pulls back with a slightly dazed expression. "I should… Nell and the contractor need me for the rebuilding plans—"
"Go. I'll be here."
He stands, presses a kiss to my forehead, and heads back toward the front of the store. I watch him go, still smiling, still holding the confetti remains of our divorce papers.
Nell appears beside me with a mop over her shoulder and a knowing look on her face. "So. You two worked things out?"
"We're staying married. Withdrawing the divorce filing tomorrow."
"Mmm." She studies me for a moment, then looks toward where Adam has disappeared. "He's planning something. I can tell. He's got the face."