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Chapter 79:: The Flowers He Sent
publish date:
2026-05-21 09:17:40
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THE PRICE OF LETTING GO Chapter 152: Wrens News
We landed in New York on a Sunday night, tanned, tired, and arguing about whether airport coffee counted as breakfast or an insult."Both," Dominic said, hauling the two suitcases toward the exit himself. He had stopped letting anyone carry his bags months ago, and he carried them like a man proving something small to himself every single time.Wren was sitting on the floor outside our apartment when the elevator opened. Her back was against the wall, a foil-covered plate balanced on her knees, a leash looped twice around her wrist. At the other end of the leash, Biscuit lay with his chin on her sneaker, fast asleep."You said Sunday night," she said, scrambling up. "It's almost eleven.""The flight was late," I said. "How long have you been out here?""Two hours. Maybe three. I made banana bread. It might be bad."Biscuit woke up, saw Dominic, and walked straight into his shins like a very small, very furry wall. Dominic crouched without thinking, both hands in the dog's ears."Hello
THE PRICE OF LETTING GO Chapter 151: Honeymoon -Part one
We picked the destination together, which was its own small miracle."Not Singapore again," I said, the week before the wedding, both of us sprawled on the floor of the Brooklyn apartment surrounded by travel brochures Camille had insisted on printing instead of just showing us online. "I love what Singapore gave us. I don't want our honeymoon to feel like a work trip with better hotel rooms.""Agreed," Dominic said. "No cities either. I've spent my entire adult life in cities. I want somewhere I can't check email even if I wanted to.""Dramatic.""Accurate," he said, echoing a word I'd used on him months earlier, and grinning when he realized it.We landed on a small island off the coast of Portugal, chosen mostly because neither of us had ever been, which felt like the right kind of blank page for a marriage that was determined not to repeat its own history.The villa was small, whitewashed, perched above a cove with water so clear it looked unreal from the terrace. No television. S
THE PRICE OF LETTING GO Chapter 150: Reception
The reception spilled out onto the gallery's small back terrace as the sun went down, string lights someone had strung up that afternoon catching the last gold light.I stood near the edge of it with a glass of champagne sweating in my hand, watching Camille try to teach Ro a dance move he was aggressively bad at, and felt something in my chest that I did not have a clean word for. Not just happiness. Something steadier than that.Dominic found me there, his jacket off now, sleeves rolled, tie loosened in a way that would have horrified the old version of him at any formal event."You've been quiet," he said."I've been happy," I said. "Quiet and happy aren't the same thing. I spent a long time thinking they were."He slid his arm around my waist, and we stood there together watching the small, loud, warm chaos of everyone we loved in one place.A fork tapped against a glass.Fletcher stood near the center of the terrace, a little unsteady, a little emotional already, holding his own
THE PRICE OF LETTING GO Chapter 149: The wedding
I stood in front of the mirror in Camille's guest room, wearing a dress I had chosen myself, no one else's opinion weighing on the decision, and felt my hands go cold."You're allowed to be nervous," Camille said, adjusting the back of my dress with careful fingers, a mouthful of pins between her lips. "Nervous is normal. Nervous doesn't mean anything is wrong.""I know.""You don't sound like you know."I looked at myself properly. The dress was simple, ivory, nothing like the elaborate gown from the first wedding, chosen deliberately this time, chosen because I liked it and not because it photographed well for a society page. My hands smoothed the fabric at my waist, once, twice, an old nervous habit I hadn't noticed I'd kept."What if I'm making the same mistake twice," I said quietly. "What if I'm about to stand in front of everyone and promise something I can't actually keep."Camille set down the hairpin she was holding and turned me gently by the shoulders until I faced her ins
THE PRICE OF LETTING GO Chapter 148: Ordinary Tuesday
Six months later, I still watered the plant on purpose, not when I remembered.It sat on the windowsill of the apartment we had found together, a real one this time, neither his old penthouse nor my West Village walk-up, a sunny two bedroom in Brooklyn that neither of us had ever stood in as anyone else’s version of ourselves. The leaves had gone glossy and full, proof of something we’d actually managed to keep alive between the two of us.“You’re doing the thing again,” Dominic said from the kitchen, not looking up from the eggs he was ruining with total confidence, sleeves rolled, one sock somehow already missing.“What thing.”“Standing very still and looking pleased with yourself for no visible reason.”“I’m allowed to be pleased,” I said. “It’s a Tuesday. Nothing bad is happening. That’s still new enough to notice.”He crossed the kitchen and kissed the top of my head, distracted, easy, the kind of small affection that used to feel impossible to imagine and now barely registered
THE PRICE OF LETTING GO Chapter 147: Full Circle
Six weeks in Singapore passed the way real time passes when you stop watching the clock for it.The Hargrove properties opened two weeks ahead of schedule, both of them, the local team throwing a small celebration on-site that ended with the head contractor, a stern woman named Mei who had tested me relentlessly for the first month, pulling me into a hug and telling me I’d earned the right to come back anytime I wanted, project or not.Dominic visited twice more during those six weeks, each trip shorter than the last, each goodbye a little easier, both of us slowly learning the specific rhythm of a life that could hold distance without breaking. On his second visit, he brought me a small potted plant for the apartment, something that could survive the humidity, he said, unlike the ones I kept accidentally killing back home.On my last night in Singapore, I stood on the balcony of the now fully furnished apartment, city lights spread out below me, and called my mother.“Tell me you’re
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