“You should’ve trusted me,” I said.
“I know,” John replied. “I’m sorry.”
We sat there in silence for a long moment.
Finally, I looked at him. “Louise gave me the key to the gate.”
His eyes widened. “She did?”
I nodded.
His expression broke. “She didn’t want to lie to you anymore, but death came first.”
“You should’ve trusted me.”
I let out a shaky breath. “You scared me.”
“I scared myself,” he admitted.
I hesitated, then asked, “Do they need more help?”
His eyebrows lifted slightly. “You mean that?”
“I might need a minute before I forgive you completely,” I said honestly. “But those kids didn’t do anything wrong.”
A small, hopeful smile spread across his face. “They’d love you.”
I shook my head, half laughing through tears. “Don’t push it.”
“You scared me.”
He reached for my hand, and I let him hold it.
“We should’ve faced this together,” I said.
“We will,” he answered.
“And I need to call my lawyer and cancel the divorce.”
John laughed, “Please do.”
And for the first time since Louise pressed that key into my palm, I felt like maybe the truth hadn’t destroyed us after all. It had just forced us to grow.
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