Chapter 28 Grayson #3
Richard watches her go. The security officer follows at a respectful distance. When the elevator doors close, Richard seems to deflate slightly, like he's been holding himself upright through sheer force of will.
"Grayson." He turns to face me. "Before you go in. I need to say something."
"Can it wait? Abbie—"
"I need to apologize to her for treating her marriage like a financial arrangement."
"You can ask her," I say finally. "If she says no, you leave. No arguments, no guilt trips, no making this harder than it already is."
"Of course."
I open the door quietly. Abbie's eyes flutter open, finding me first, then tracking to her father in the doorway behind me.
"Dad?" Her voice is hoarse but alert.
"I can go," Richard says quickly. "If you want me to go, I'll go. I just... I wanted to apologize. For a lot of things. If you'll let me."
Abbie looks at me. I try to keep my face neutral, to let this be her choice without my influence coloring it. After a moment, she nods.
"Okay. But, Gray, stay? Please?"
"I'm not going anywhere."
I settle into the chair beside her bed as Richard approaches, staying at the foot of it, giving her space.
"I won't take long," he says. "I know you need rest. But I needed you to hear this from me, tonight, before I lost my nerve.
" He takes a shaky breath. "I failed you, Abbie.
For years. I let your mother convince me that Delaney's needs were more urgent than yours, and I told myself that you were strong enough to handle being overlooked.
That you didn't need me the way she did. "
"Dad—"
"I was wrong. You needed me, and I wasn't there.
I put my money where my attention should have been, and I kept secrets that hurt you, and I treated your marriage like an investment instead of a relationship.
" His eyes are wet. "I'm not asking you to forgive me.
I haven't earned that. I'm just asking for the chance to try.
To be better. To be the father you deserved all along. "
Abbie is quiet for a long moment. The monitors beep softly. Somewhere down the hall, a phone rings.
"I can't... I can't do this tonight," she finally says. "I can't process this and everything else and—"
"I know. I'm not asking you to." Richard steps back toward the door. "I just wanted you to know. That I see it now. That I'm going to try."
"Okay," Abbie whispers. "Okay. You can... you can try."
Richard nods once, blinking hard, and slips out of the room without another word. I move my chair closer to the bed, close enough to take Abbie's hand. She squeezes my fingers, her grip weak but deliberate.
"You're back," she murmurs.
"I'm back. Go back to sleep."
"Can't. Too uncomfortable." She shifts, wincing at the bruises. "Did you talk to the police?"
"Gave my statement. It's handled."
"And Delaney?"
I consider lying, consider protecting her from the ugly confrontation, the way I've tried to protect her from so many ugly things. But we don't do that anymore. We don't hide from each other.
"I saw her in the hallway. I told her she's not in our lives anymore. That Theo's lawyers would be in contact about the baby. And that we’re seeking a no-contact order and will report any further harassment."
Abbie is quiet for a moment. "How did she take it?"
"Badly. But honestly, I don't care." I reach for her hand again, threading my fingers through hers. "She's not my responsibility, Abbie. She never was. I spent years trying to keep peace between you, trying to manage her behavior, and all I did was enable her to keep hurting you. That's done now."
"Gray..."
"I'm not going to hurt her. I'm not going to pursue anything beyond what the law requires. But I'm also not going to let her back in. Not ever. She made her choice tonight, and choices have consequences."
Abbie's eyes are wet again, but she's smiling, a small, tired smile that makes my chest ache. "Who are you and what have you done with my conflict-avoidant husband?"
"Turns out watching your pregnant wife fall while someone attacks her is excellent motivation for personal growth."
She laughs, a real laugh, even though it makes her wince, and I lean down to kiss her forehead, her cheek, the corner of her mouth.
"I love you," I whisper against her skin. "I know I keep saying it—"
"Don't stop. I spent a year convinced you didn't. I need to hear it."
"Then I'll say it forever. I love you. I love our baby.
I love the life we're building together, even when it's hard and scary and nothing like I planned.
" I pull back to look at her, memorizing the way the harsh hospital light catches the gold in her hair.
"I'm going to spend every day proving I deserve this second chance. "
"You already have," she says softly. "But I'm not going to stop you."
An hour later, the doctor comes in with discharge papers and final instructions. Abbie sits up slowly, carefully, and I help her into the clothes Marguerite brought from the house, soft sweats and one of my old shirts that she claimed years ago and never gave back.
In the car, she leans her head against my shoulder and closes her eyes.
"Take me home," she says.
"Topanga?"
She's quiet for a moment, and I feel her hand find mine in the dark.
"Ours."