Three years after the Florida wedding, my phone rang on a Tuesday afternoon.
Sebastian's name appeared on the screen.
We hadn't spoken directly in almost a year.
For several seconds, I considered ignoring it.
Then I answered.
“Hello?”
“Victoria.”
His voice sounded different.
Older.
Calmer.
“Is everything okay?”
“Yes. Nobody's hurt.”
I hadn't realized how tense I'd become until he said that.
“What do you need?”
“Nothing.”
I almost laughed.
Sebastian Hayes calling me because he needed nothing was a new experience.
“Then why are you calling?”
“I'm getting married.”
Silence.
I looked out my office window.
Chicago stretched beneath a clear autumn sky.
“Okay.”
“Her name is Rebecca.”
“I've heard.”
Mutual friends had mentioned her.
She was a teacher.
They'd apparently been dating for more than a year.
“I wanted you to hear it from me.”
“Why?”
“Because last time…”
He stopped.
Neither of us needed him to finish.
Last time he'd gotten married, he'd told me he was at a conference.
“I appreciate that.”
“No secrets this time.”
“That's probably wise.”
He laughed quietly.
Then became serious.
“There's something else.”
“What?”
“Rebecca knows everything.”
“Everything?”
“What I did to you. What I did to Alyssa. The financial mess. All of it.”
I waited.
“I used to tell every story so I was the victim,” he said. “You worked too much. Mom interfered. Alyssa pressured me. Business partners failed me.”
He exhaled.
“It took me a long time to realize the common denominator was me.”
I sat down.
Three years earlier, I would have given almost anything to hear Sebastian say those words.
Now they felt strangely peaceful rather than victorious.
“I'm glad you figured that out.”
“I owe you an apology.”
“You apologized before.”
“No. I said I was sorry because I wanted my life back.”
That was true.
“This one isn't supposed to get me anything.”
I remained silent.
He continued.
“You trusted me. I lied to you. You gave me opportunities, and I treated them like entitlements. I let my family disrespect you because confronting them would've been uncomfortable for me. And what I did with Alyssa…”
His voice tightened.
“There isn't an excuse.”
“No.”
“I know.”
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then I asked about Noah.
Sebastian's voice changed instantly.
“He started preschool.”
“Already?”
“Can you believe it?”
“No.”
“He's obsessed with dinosaurs.”
I smiled.
“That's a good obsession.”
“Alyssa's doing well too.”
“I'm glad.”
He hesitated.
“Do you forgive me?”
There was the question.
I looked at the framed photographs on my desk.
My brother's family.
My employees at the Second Chapter gala.
Ethan and me standing beside Lake Como during a vacation I'd once been too busy to take.
I thought carefully.
“I don't know if forgiveness is one decision,” I said. “But I don't wake up angry at you anymore.”
Sebastian was quiet.
“For whatever it's worth, I hope you're happy.”
“I am.”
“With Ethan?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
And to my surprise, I meant what I said next.
“I hope you and Rebecca are happy too.”
When the call ended, I sat quietly.
Then Ethan knocked on my open door.
“Lunch?”
“You're early.”
“By thirty seconds.”
I smiled.
He noticed my expression.
“What happened?”
“Sebastian called.”
Ethan waited.
“He's getting married.”
“How do you feel?”
I considered it.
“Fine.”
“Fine as in fine?”
“Actually fine.”
He smiled.
“That sounds expensive. Therapy finally paying off?”
I threw a pen at him.
He ducked.
We went to lunch.
Six months later, Ethan and I were walking beside the lake when he stopped.
I knew before he said anything.
“No.”
His face fell.
I laughed.
“Not no to you.”
“Victoria, you're making this proposal unnecessarily traumatic.”
“Sorry.”
He pulled out a ring.
It was beautiful.
Simple.
Nothing like the enormous diamond Sebastian had once given me.
Ethan didn't kneel immediately.
Instead, he looked directly at me.
“I don't need you to become anything different,” he said. “I don't need your company. I don't need your house. I don't need you to work less unless you want to. I just want ordinary Tuesdays and ridiculous vacations and arguments about where we order dinner.”
My eyes filled.
“And twenty percent more childcare funding?”
“Obviously.”
I laughed through my tears.
Then he knelt.
“Victoria Carter, will you marry me?”
“Yes.”
It was the easiest yes I'd ever given.
But this yes was different.
It wasn't financing someone else's dream.
It wasn't rescuing anyone.
It wasn't trying to prove I was enough.
It was simply choosing someone who had already shown me, quietly and consistently, that partnership could mean standing beside each other instead of standing on one another.
I looked at the ring.
Then at Ethan.
“You realize I have one condition.”
“Prenup?”
“Absolutely.”
He laughed.
“I expected nothing less.”
I kissed him.
And somewhere inside me, the woman sitting alone in that office three years earlier finally disappeared.
Not because I'd forgotten her.
Because she'd gotten me here.
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