Sweetest Venom (Virtue #2)(49)

As my mom awaits my answer, I feel as though I’m waking from a dream. I will never have closure with my dad. He died without knowing that I loved him. And here I have an opportunity not to repeat the same mistake with my mother. Sometimes people walk out of your life never to return, and all you have left are bitter memories and what ifs. And though you try to move on and forget them, they become regrets that cut deeper than the sharpest knife, slashing you over and over again.

“You don’t have to give me an answer now, sweetie. Why don’t you read your father’s letter? Take some time. And when you’re ready, I’ll be there for you.”

Once we say good-bye, I drive back to my hotel. After taking a shower, doing my nails, reading, doing anything and everything to avoid my father’s letter, I finally find the courage to take it in my hands, open the envelope, and read it.

My dear Blaire,

If you’re reading this letter, it’s because I’m too late.

My life has been a string full of regrets. Not walking you to school. Not taking you to the park more often. Not making you laugh. Not telling you that I loved you enough. But my biggest regret is not being able to watch you grow and become the wonderful woman that I know you must be.

I wish you were with us now so you could see who we have become. Your mom gave me one of the best presents I could wish for: her forgiveness. She did it because she says the past doesn’t exist anymore and it’s all about who we are now. And she’s right, Blaire. Don’t ever let the demons of your past tarnish your present.

I’m so sorry for being such a lousy father to you, Blaire—my sweet blue-eyed angel. My shining star.

In my sober moments, it was you who made my life not seem such a waste. And in my alcohol induced moments, it was you who I lamented.

I love you, my child.



Always,

Your father.

Gripping the letter tightly to my chest, I cry for the girl I was and for the family we could’ve been. I cry because I never got to tell my dad that, in my eyes, he was never a failure. And I cry because that little girl still loves him so much and he died without knowing it.





MY MOM OPENS THE DOOR and smiles brightly when she sees me. “You came.”

“Yes,” I smile, too. “I want to try, Mom.”

All my life has been a collection of decisions ruled by fear: fear of getting hurt, fear of feeling too much, fear of loving, fear of allowing people to get close.

Fear.

Fear.

Fear.

I once thought I had broken free of it, but I was just fooling myself.

I’m done running.

It’s time to face the music.

And hopefully, time to heal, too.





“WOW … THIS PLACE IS INSANE,” I say, following Elly around the house. She’s giving me a tour of Alessandro’s sky lodge in Vermont. We’re now on the main floor that features an open living area and a ridiculous floor to ceiling stone fireplace, framed by bay windows. I stop walking and absorb the view of the mountains against a bright blue sky.

“The view is something else,” Elly says.

“Yep. The whole place is amazing, Elly.” I move to sit on a large cream-colored couch. I grab a comfortable looking throw pillow, hugging it to my chest, and meet Elly’s eyes. “Thanks for inviting me.”

Elly sits down next to me. She reaches for my hand and laces our fingers. “How are you doing?”

I focus on the fire burning in the hearth, thinking back to the last few weeks of my life and the peace that I found by letting go of all my anger and resentment—the peace that I found in forgiving, and accepting forgiveness in return.

“I once made a promise to myself that I would never love again because it made me weak. I decided to ignore my heart and let my brain rule every decision that I made, so I hid behind money and its comforts. I knew money couldn’t buy happiness, but it could make my life pretty comfortable—shroud it with glittering safety. I see now that I was mistaken. I mean, don’t get me wrong—money is important. But it isn’t everything.” I turn to face her and smile sadly, thinking of my father’s letter. “Love can be many things. Cruel. Exhilarating. Deceitful. Jealous. Hateful. But at its purest form, love can be redeeming—forgiving.” My voice falters, but I continue past the rock stuck in my throat, “Love can heal, Elly.”

She squeezes my hand. “That’s beautiful.”

I wipe a tear off my cheek with the sleeve of my sweater. “Ugh … I hate this,” I say, sniffing. “Lately, everything seems to set me off. And once I get going, I can’t stop crying.”

Elly laughs, the sound musical. “Aww, the ice in your heart is thawing.”

“Shut up.” I roll my eyes as a smile tugs the corners of my lips. “It freaking sucks.” We stare at each other and burst out laughing. Once we’ve calmed down, I grab the pillow sitting on my lap and throw it at her, missing her head by an inch. “What would I do without you?”

“You’d be lost without me.” She pretends to shudder. “But tell me … how are you doing? You know, with Ronan and Lawrence.”

How can I explain to Elly what happened in the past few weeks when I barely understand it myself? I laugh because I went through life protecting my heart, making sure that I never gave power to anyone, but I ended up falling in love not once, but twice.