Don't Speak (A Modern Fairytale, #5)(122)

“The buildin’ had a waiting list a mile long. They already found me a tenant.”

“Need help packin’ up?”

“Hired people. Everythin’ will be put in storage tomorrow until I figure out what comes next.”

“What does come next?”

“I’ll get a job once we’re settled somewhere.”

“Where? On the Outer Banks?” she demanded, her voice shrieking a little on the word Banks.”

Erik stopped what he was doing and looked at her closely—at the red spots in her cheeks and the glistening of her eyes. He stepped around his desk and sat down next to her on the couch.

“Maybe,” he said slowly. “Or maybe I’ll live off my trust for a while.”

“Won’t last forever,” she said.

“Yeah, it will,” he said gently.

Hillary, who had the same trust of five million dollars gifted from their maternal grandfather, had nodded. “Yeah. It will.”

“Laire’s a designer,” he said. “She has a job in New York. I’m guessin’ . . . I mean, maybe we’ll head North.”

“You’re not goin’ to New York, Erik!” she exclaimed, her face aghast. “We’re Southerners.”

“Things change,” he said. “If that’s where she needs to be, that’s where I need to be too.”

“And what exactly will you do in New York?

“Pass the bar. Practice law. Get married. Have more kids. Be happy.”

“Just like that?”

He nodded, pulling her into a hug. “Just like that, little sister. Stop worryin’.”

“I do worry.” She drew away, looking up at him with glistening eyes. “I worry so much. Erik . . . We’ll never see each other.”

“That’s not true,” he said. “We’ll make sure that’s not true. I want you to know Laire—to love her as much as I do. And Hills, you’re an aunt! My daughter needs family, and you’re all I’ve got to share with her. Promise me we’ll make this work? No matter where we are.”

She inhaled deeply, wiping away her tears as she embraced her brother again. “I promise, Erik. We’ll figure it out.” She sniffled, offering him an enormous plastic bag. “There’s about two dozen penguins in here. Every single one I could get my hands on. You tell her they’re all from Aunt Hillary. No takin’ credit. Promise?”

He kissed her cheek and smiled. “I promise.”

His heart clenched for a brief moment as he thought of stepping into the elevator and waving good-bye to his sister. But once he’d gotten into his car, which was full of several boxes and suitcases, and headed for Hatteras, any remaining apprehension over his decision to leave his life in Raleigh had quickly faded.

His conversation with his parents had been horrible, and he still didn’t know if reconciliation would ever be in the cards. Forgiving his mother for what she’d done would take years—maybe a lifetime. And protecting his new family from his birth family felt like an absolute necessity at this point in time.

Leaving his job, vacating his apartment, and leasing it to a new tenant had led to mountains of paperwork, and saying good-bye to Hillary had been wrenching.

But as he crossed the bridge to the Outer Banks, all he felt was freedom and hope. Freedom to follow his dream and create the family he longed for with Laire and Ava Grace. And hope—so much hope that after six years of cold, aching loneliness, a life full of warmth and love with his girls awaited.

He stepped on the gas, cracking the window and inhaling the cold, brackish air, closer, with every mile, to those he loved most in the world.

***

Ava Grace had fallen asleep an hour ago, even though she’d tried hard to stay awake to see her dad. Curled up on the couch, with a homemade “Welcome Home!” card in her lap, she’d finally succumbed to sleep, and Laire had carried her into her bedroom and closed the door. She placed the card on Ava Grace’s bedside table. It would keep until the morning.

Erik texted two hours ago that he’d get dinner on the road so she didn’t prepare anything for them, but she had a bottle of Champagne on ice, and the condo was immaculate for his arrival, except for Ava Grace’s dinner dishes, which she decided to tackle now.

Her body, deprived of his for three long days, was ravenously hungry for their reunion, and she kept looking out the kitchen window over the sink, hoping to see his headlights as he pulled into the parking lot.

She knew that things had not gone well with his parents. His mother had admitted to using Vanessa as a way to keep Erik and Laire apart, and also to knowing that Laire was likely telling the truth about being pregnant with his child. In response, Erik had essentially disowned them, forbidding them to ever reach out to him or to try to know their granddaughter.

It was a terrible thing that Fancy Rexford had done to her son and granddaughter, but Laire, as a mother of her own precious child, had split feelings about her actions. Did she forgive Fancy for threatening and frightening a pregnant eighteen-year-old? No. But she understood that inherent, visceral need of a mother to protect her child from evil or danger, no matter what.

Still, she grieved that Erik wouldn’t have a relationship with his parents. She hoped that, over time, maybe he would learn to forgive them, and perhaps—if they were truly penitent and eager to know their granddaughter in a real and loving way—he’d be able to find a place for his parents, however controlled, in their life.