60. Genevieve
Chapter sixty
Genevieve
The celebration of Christmas never seemed to end at the Russel estate.
Despite all the tension, secrets and discretion brought to light, the family was able to settle back into a tense but softer tranquility.
There was more laughter, more gentleness and warmth tonight than in the last twenty-four hours. It was what we all needed.
I stood near the archway leading into the living room, watching children settle into the rug as Uncle Santa Blaine, shirtless and possibly a little tipsy, started with the planning of the annual Christmas scavenger hunt.
I watched the Masahikos talk softly over steaming mugs, watched Killian hover over Brielle, who sat with an eager Elodie, wanting to join in with the other kids. I watched them be a family… my family.
This was the kind of night I used to imagine from a distance. A life that could have been simple and mine. It was a life I abandoned. One I thought I’d lost forever.
A gentle touch grazed my back. I knew it was Reid just by the fire he left on my skin.
“Come here,” he murmured, voice low, and I turned to him as he took my hand and pulled me toward the quiet corner.
Christmas music drifted through the air, and before I could even think, he was guiding my hands around his shoulders, pulling me against him.
And then we swayed, his arms holding me, my thoughts and my worries, while my cheek pressed to his chest as his hand ran up my spine.
“How are you feeling, mon amour?”
“I’m okay…” I whispered.
He knew me better than I knew myself, knew what was in my head about this, but this time… the thoughts didn’t consume me. They comforted me, telling me what I’d left but reminding me what I still had. What I came back to.
Because despite everything… the shouting, the heartbreak, the truths ripped open and left bleeding, I wanted to stand in this room. I wanted to try. I wanted, maybe foolishly, to believe we could still be a family.
I looked up at him, my chin resting on his chest, his eyes already cast down at me.
“But I’m happy,” I sighed.
He hummed, hands leaving my waist as they caressed the side of my face, pushing away my hair.
“I’d hope so.” His thumb skimmed my cheekbone. “But this time… you’re more than happy,” he murmured. “You’re home.”
I let the word linger in my mind. Home.
His words from years ago drifted back to me.
“I will bring you home,” he whispered. “To them. To yourself. Even if I have to tear down every dynasty in this country to do it.”
And finally, I—we were home again.
I laid against his chest again, letting our bodies sway as my eyes fell over the room once more. Across the room, Juliet stood by Eugene, who, despite everything that happened, came back. Brielle had warned me he wouldn’t, that he’d run. But he didn’t.
It would take him… all of us some time getting used to this new norm. This new idea of family. Maybe the rest of our lives. But it didn’t have to happen now. Because him being here, in this space, this family… was enough.
As if he could feel my eyes on him, his found mine, watching Reid and me silently.
I stepped back from Reid slowly. He still held me in his arms but he didn’t stop me. His gaze had already followed mine, before he gave me an encouraging squeeze on my hips, quiet permission to leave him.
I crossed the room with caution. Juliet’s eyes found mine, her softness much needed for the man that was my son.
Her expression faltered for only a second, but before I could speak, she stepped forward and pulled me into a gentle, trembling embrace.
It had startled me for a moment, my eyes locking with my son, who watched us silently, before my arms wrapped around the woman that was my daughter-in-law, the woman I only had to thank for holding my son together, for being there for him when I couldn’t, pulling him out of the darkness when he needed.
“I’m really glad you’re here,” she whispered against my shoulder. I closed my eyes.
Eugene had told her I had passed years ago—to him, to the world maybe—and in those moments, it did feel that way. But hugging this sweet girl in my arms, feeling her love and warmth, I knew it would never feel that way again.
When we pulled away, Eugene was gone, his back to us as he walked toward the other wing of the home.
I squeezed Juliet’s hand before walking after him, pulling at Brielle’s cardigan that was draped around my shoulders.
He paused by the patio door, fingers rubbing his temples as I approached him gently.
I lingered beside him for a moment before speaking. “…How’re you holding up, Lovebug?”
His shoulders dropped at the sound of my voice.
“It’s… a lot to process,” he muttered. “But I’m trying.”
“…That's the most important part,” I whispered gently.
When he finally glanced over at me, his eyes were hollowed with exhaustion, but softer than before. I held it together the best I could.
“You could’ve left, could’ve decided it was too much. But you stayed.”
“…Will you?” he asked, hesitancy in his voice, and my breath hitched. “Stay? Are you… staying?”
He wasn’t searching for answers, for the past or for the secrets anymore. At least not right now. There was no anger in his tone, no more accusations, no more resentment…
His question asked more than if I was staying around for the holiday or for the rest of the night… In it I heard the little boy I’d left, the son who was finally asking the question that would make him whole again.
Are you choosing us? Are you choosing me?
I closed the remaining distance and reached for his hand. He didn’t flinch. Instead, his fingers slid between mine instinctively, bigger and rougher than I remember, but still my little boy.
I squeezed gently. “I’m not going anywhere,” I whispered. “Never again.”
His breath trembled, his hand tightened in mine. He looked down at our joined hands before looking back out the patio, and I followed his gaze. He didn’t pull away when I rested my head against his shoulder.
In the reflection of the patio glass, I could see us. I could see the way he turned his head, gazing down at me as if he couldn’t believe I was real. I saw the reflection of a mother and a son, not fully healed but together again.
I didn’t deserve his acceptance or forgiveness. Didn’t deserve him or the family I always wanted. But they let me in… he was letting me in. And that was enough for us to start over.