Chapter forty-four
Antonia
Savannah bursts into her dad’s bedroom. I’m sitting at the dressing table, applying my lipstick. Luckily, I’m dressed.
“Antonia, can you believe it’s today?” she says, her face lit up.
Her sister, Rose, follows close behind her. She grabs my shoulders, cuddling me tight.
“I can’t believe today’s the day,” she agrees.
“It’s an exciting day,” I say. They squeal, both clapping their hands together.
Ben appears from his shower; a towel wrapped around his waist.
“Girls, what have I told you about coming into the bedroom?”
They shrug, laugh, ruffle my hair—which I’ve spent a long-time straightening—and leave again. He walks over, leans down, his lips grazing my cheek.
“Today’s the day,” he says. “Today, we get to open the retreat.”
We stare at each other in the mirror, him dripping water all over me. I’m grinning like an idiot.
“Get off,” I scold as the water splashes on my face. “You’re getting me wet.”
His mouth ghosts my ear, his breath warm and inviting. “I love it when you’re wet.”
I bat him away, laughing, still staring at his reflection as he walks away.
The last few months have been incredible. We’ve built something beautiful from the ashes of what we lost.
It’s new. It’s fresh. It’s only been a few months, but it’s real. We have a purpose, and I can’t believe how lucky I am. I’ve finally found my place with someone who loves me for me. And so has Ben.
Both of us have space in our lives for the future and our pasts. We’re a team.
The retreat’s ready. We’re opening today.
After months of protests, PR stunts, and what feels like every challenge I’ve ever faced coming to a head, we’ve actually made it.
The beds are made, the gardens are pruned, and everything’s prepared.
Today, we’ve invited the shareholders, the sponsors, the funders, and everyone who helped create the retreat to cut the ribbon and open what we hope will be a wonderful asset to the community, to Ben’s patients, and to anyone dealing with cancer.
We’ve achieved our dream.
Or we will have—in a few hours.
Minutes later, Ben appears behind me, suit on, shirt and tie, while strong fingers rearrange his hair. My stomach twists into knots, then jumps into my throat.
This feels so natural, so normal now.
I don’t live here full time, and I’m not sure I ever will. It’s not my home. It’s his home. And I like my own space. But it feels right to be here right now.
With him.
With his kids.
It almost feels like home.