Chapter 17 - The Day Olivia Finally Came Home
Claire had forgiven Damian before she forgave Olivia.
That surprised her.
Perhaps because romantic love and sisterhood broke differently.
A marriage could be rebuilt from choice.
Sisters shared history they never chose.
Childhood bedrooms.
Christmas mornings.
Arguments in back seats.
Secret jokes.
Their mother’s funeral.
When Olivia betrayed Claire, she had contaminated memories stretching far beyond Damian.
So forgiveness took longer.
It came quietly.
Olivia arrived in Grey Harbor for Emma’s sixth birthday.
She carried one present.
Claire approved.
“No ridiculous aunt behavior?”
“Define ridiculous.”
“One pony was mentioned.”
“I was joking.”
“You were not.”
“Mostly.”
Emma ran toward her.
“Aunt Liv!”
Olivia hugged her.
Damian watched from the porch.
He and Olivia remained distant.
Civil.
Nothing more.
That was enough.
During the party, Claire found Olivia alone in the kitchen.
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
“You’re crying.”
“I’m cutting onions.”
“There are no onions.”
Olivia laughed.
“I keep thinking I almost never knew her.”
Claire knew who she meant.
Emma.
“You didn’t.”
“I know.”
“But you do now.”
Olivia looked at her.
“Why did you let me back?”
Claire thought.
“Because you stopped asking me to erase what happened.”
Olivia nodded.
“I’m still sorry.”
“I know.”
“And I’m not asking—”
Claire hugged her.
Olivia froze.
Then broke down.
“You’re crushing me.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t ruin it.”
Claire laughed.
They stood there for a long time.
When they separated, Olivia wiped her face.
“Does this mean I’m forgiven?”
Claire smiled.
“It means you’re my sister.”
For Olivia, that was enough.
Damian entered.
He stopped when he saw them.
Claire looked at him.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You look suspicious.”
“I’m deciding whether this means family holidays become terrifying again.”
Olivia laughed.
“Probably.”
He almost smiled.
That was progress too.
Later, after guests left, Damian sat on the porch.
Claire joined him.
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
“Really?”
“I was thinking about the night everything happened.”
“So was I.”
“If I could change it—”
Claire touched his hand.
“You can’t.”
“I know.”
“And I don’t want our entire future built around regretting one night.”
He looked at her.
“That sounds almost healthy.”
“Disgusting, isn’t it?”
He laughed.
Emma appeared in the doorway.
“Come inside.”
“Why?”
“I have cake left.”
Claire looked at the clock.
“It’s bedtime.”
“It’s birthday bedtime.”
Damian nodded.
“She has a legal argument.”
“You stay out of this.”
Emma grabbed both their hands.
For the thousandth time, Damian noticed how small hers were.
He hoped he never stopped noticing.
Inside, Emma ate cake.
Then asked:
“Are you guys going to get married again?”
Claire laughed.
“We’re still married.”
“You know what I mean.”
Damian looked at Claire.
He had promised not to propose until she asked him to.
Yes.
Claire had created that rule after discovering a ring catalog in his browser.
Emma continued.
“You should have a wedding where I can come.”
“You existed during the first one,” Damian said.
“In Mom’s belly?”
“No.”
Claire smiled.
“Not yet.”
Emma looked offended.
“That’s rude.”
They laughed.
But the question stayed.
That night, Claire lay beside Damian.
“Do you want another wedding?”
He became cautious.
“Are you asking what I want, or testing me?”
“Both.”
“Yes.”
“Big?”
“No.”
“Chicago?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Grey Harbor?”
“Yes.”
Claire smiled in the dark.
“Ask me.”
Damian stopped breathing.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
He sat up.
“Now?”
“No.”
His panic made her laugh.
“Not while I’m wearing old pajamas.”
“They’re attractive.”
“They have coffee stains.”
“Still.”
“Plan something.”
Damian stared.
“You’re giving me permission to propose?”
“Yes.”
“Are there rules?”
“Obviously.”
“How many?”
“I’ll email them.”
He laughed and kissed her.
The proposal came one month later.
No expensive restaurant.
No yacht.
No musicians.
The beach.
Same place where Damian first searched for shells with Emma.
Claire arrived with Emma beside her.
Damian stood near the water.
He held the white shell.
Claire smiled.
“That belongs on the café wall.”
“I borrowed it.”
Emma whispered loudly, “He’s nervous.”
“I can see.”
Damian looked at Claire.
“The first time I married you, I thought love meant wanting you.”
Claire’s eyes filled.
“I was wrong.”
He continued.
“Love is seeing who you are when you don’t need me and choosing to stand beside you without asking you to become smaller.”
Claire wiped tears.
“Very good speech.”
“I practiced for two weeks.”
Emma nodded.
“He did.”
Damian laughed.
Then became serious.
“I can’t promise never to fail you.”
Claire appreciated that.
“I can promise I’ll tell the truth when I fail. I’ll listen when you say no. I’ll choose our family before pride.”
He knelt.
Emma squealed.
Damian opened a small box.
Claire stared.
The ring was simple.
Not remotely simple by normal standards.
But simple by Damian standards.
“Claire, will you choose me again?”
She did not answer immediately.
Damian looked terrified.
Claire let him suffer three seconds.
Then:
“Yes.”
Emma screamed.
Damian stood.
Claire kissed him.
Emma wrapped around both their legs.
The Atlantic stretched behind them.
No photographers.
No security crisis.
No empire.
Just a family.
Later Claire discovered Emma had filmed the entire proposal accidentally in slow motion.
Nora declared it artistic.
Damian declared it unusable.
Claire saved it forever.
Their wedding date was set for October.
Exactly two years after Damian first walked into the Tidal Cup.
Two years after a mug shattered.
Two years after Emma pointed at a stranger and recognized herself in his eyes.
But before the wedding, Damian had one final promise to keep.
Not to Claire.
To Emma.
He had promised to show up.
And the biggest day of her young life outside their family was approaching.
Her first school performance.
The same day Damian was required to appear in Chicago for the final probation review.
For once, there was no villain.
No threat.
No criminal conspiracy.
Only an ordinary father facing an ordinary problem.
May you like
And Claire wondered which appointment Damian Blackwood would choose.
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