Chapter 24

Chapter 24

Harper

Victoria’s letter sat unopened on the study desk for four days.

I passed it every morning on my way to breakfast, and every morning I told myself I’d deal with it later. Later became a word I used a lot when it came to my sister-in-law.

“You’re stalling,” Damian said on the fifth day, catching me staring at the envelope again.

“I’m strategizing.”

“You’re stalling.”

“Fine. I’m stalling.” I picked it up finally, turning it over in my hands. “What if it’s terrible?”

“It’s Victoria. It’s always terrible.”

“Comforting.”

“I try.”

I slid my thumb under the seal and pulled out a single cream-colored card. Elegant handwriting filled the front, precise and cold in a way that matched everything about the woman who’d written it.

Harper,

I trust the island was refreshing. I hear congratulations are in order regarding a second ceremony. How romantic.

I would like to discuss the guest list personally. There are certain families whose absence would raise questions neither of us wants asked.

Victoria

I read it twice before handing it to Damian. He scanned it quickly, jaw tightening.

“She wants control of the guest list.”

“She wants control of everything,” I said. “This is just the opening move.”

“You don’t have to give her anything.”

“I know.” I sat down across from him, tracing the edge of the table absently. “But if I ignore her completely, she’ll make this harder than it needs to be. Victoria doesn’t disappear when you shut her out. She just gets louder.”

Damian studied me for a moment. “You’ve gotten good at reading her.”

“I’ve had practice.”

That was true. Six months of Sunday dinners and thinly veiled insults had taught me more about Victoria Blackwood than I’d ever wanted to know. She wasn’t cruel in obvious ways. She was cruel in careful ones — the kind of comments that sounded like concern until you replayed them later and realized exactly what they’d meant.

“I’ll write back,” I said. “Something polite. Something that doesn’t give her anything to use.”

“You don’t need my permission.”

“I know that too.” I smiled slightly. “I just like telling you my plans anyway.”

Something shifted in his expression, quiet and warm, gone almost as soon as it appeared. I’d started noticing those moments more since the island. Small flickers of something neither of us had named yet, appearing and disappearing before either of us could examine them too closely.

I wasn’t in a hurry to name it either. Some things felt better left unspoken for a while longer.

Later that afternoon, I found Lily in the garden, kneeling in the dirt with a determined expression and absolutely no regard for her clothes.

“What are we doing?” I asked, crouching beside her.

“Planning the wedding flowers.”

“In the dirt?”

“I’m imagining,” she said, like that explained everything. “Miss Bennett says imagining works better outside.”

“Miss Bennett sounds wise.”

“She is. She also says unicorns aren’t real, but I think she’s wrong about that part.”

I bit back a laugh. “You might be right.”

Lily beamed, clearly satisfied with my answer, then returned her attention to the invisible flower arrangement she was apparently designing in midair. I watched her a moment, something warm settling in my chest.

Six months ago, this child had barely spoken to me. Now she included me in imaginary gardens and wedding negotiations like I’d always belonged here.

“Do you think Dad will cry at the wedding?” she asked suddenly.

“Your dad? Cry?”

“Grandma Evelyn said men sometimes cry at weddings.”

“Your dad’s not exactly the crying type.”

Lily considered this seriously. “Maybe this wedding will change that.”

I smiled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Maybe it will.”

That evening, after Lily had gone to bed, I found Damian in his office, sleeves rolled up, staring at a stack of documents with the particular intensity he reserved for anything involving his father.

“Bad news?”

“Richard wants a meeting.”

“About the wedding?”

“About everything.” He set the papers down, rubbing his temple. “He’s been quiet for weeks. That usually means he’s planning something.”

I sat on the edge of his desk. “Should I be worried?”

“No.” Then, after a pause, “Maybe a little.”

“Reassuring.”

“I’m working on it.”

I studied him for a moment, the tired lines around his eyes, the tension sitting in his shoulders that hadn’t fully disappeared since we’d landed back in New York. The island had given us a few days of peace. The city had wasted no time reminding us peace wasn’t permanent here.

“You don’t have to carry all of it alone,” I said quietly. “Whatever Richard’s planning. Whatever Victoria’s scheming. You’re allowed to let me help.”

Damian looked up, something unreadable crossing his face. “I’m not used to that.”

“I know.”

“It’s not that I don’t want it. I just don’t know how.”

“You don’t have to know how,” I said. “You just have to let me stay.”

Silence stretched between us, comfortable rather than heavy. Damian reached across the desk, taking my hand the way he had on the island, the gesture familiar now in a way it hadn’t been months ago.

“Stay, then,” he said simply.

“I plan to.”

He almost smiled at that, the corner of his mouth lifting just slightly before he caught himself. I’d noticed he did that a lot — held back, guarded even the smallest reactions like giving too much away might cost him something.

I didn’t push. Slow was fine. Slow, I was starting to realize, suited both of us better than rushing ever could have.

“Write your letter to Victoria,” he said eventually. “I’ll deal with Richard.”

“Together, though. Not separately.”

“Together,” he agreed.

I left his office a while later, Victoria’s letter still sitting on the study desk, waiting for a response I hadn’t quite figured out yet. But for the first time since we’d landed back in New York, the weight of it didn’t feel quite as heavy.

Whatever Victoria was planning. Whatever Richard was scheming. We were facing it together now, one slow, deliberate step at a time.

That was enough for tonight.