Chapter 13 - THE FIRST TRIP I TOOK FOR MYSELF
Eighteen months after Dubai destroyed my marriage, I finally went there.
With Sophie.
Economy plus.
Because first class seemed unnecessarily symbolic and outrageously expensive.
“Vance would hate this,” Sophie said while trying to sleep upright.
“Excellent.”
We laughed until the man across the aisle glared.
The trip had been Sophie’s idea.
“I don’t want Dubai to be the place he took his mistress,” she told me.
“So we’re reclaiming an entire city?”
“Exactly.”
I raised a good child.
We spent six days eating too much, walking until our feet hurt, getting lost in a mall so large I briefly believed we had entered another municipality, and taking photographs we actually wanted to keep.
No revenge posts.
No captions aimed at Vance.
Our happiness did not need an audience to count.
On the fourth night, we sat outside overlooking the city.
Sophie asked:
“Do you love Grant?”
I nearly spilled my drink.
“Subtle.”
“You raised me.”
“Unfortunately.”
“Do you?”
I looked at the lights.
“I might.”
“Does that scare you?”
“Yes.”
“Because of Vance?”
“Partly.”
She waited.
I had learned my daughter did not always need advice.
Sometimes she simply needed truth.
“I’m afraid I’ll become agreeable again.”
Sophie frowned.
“You were always agreeable.”
“Exactly.”
“Mom, Grant likes you when you argue with him about stairs.”
“He’s strange.”
“He also moved a meeting because you had a migraine.”
“That is a basic human courtesy.”
“You spent fifteen years thinking basic courtesy was a luxury.”
That hurt because it was accurate.
When we returned home, Grant was waiting at the curb.
Not with flowers.
With two coffees.
Mine had cinnamon.
He remembered.
Of course he did.
“How was the trip?”
“Expensive.”
“Transformative?”
“Mostly expensive.”
Sophie took her suitcase.
“I’m going to pretend I’m not standing here.”
“Please do.”
Grant smiled.
“I missed you.”
My pulse jumped.
The old version of me would have immediately returned the sentence.
To reassure him.
To maintain balance.
Instead, I checked what I actually felt.
“I missed you too.”
His smile softened.
That mattered.
Months later, Vance received his sentence.
A period of home confinement, probation, financial penalties, restitution, and a permanent ban from serving as an officer of certain regulated investment entities.
Howard received prison time.
Richard Kensington’s case continued.
Khloe left Chicago and eventually sent Sophie a private apology.
Sophie never responded.
Her choice.
Vance sent me one message after sentencing.
I’m sorry for everything.
I read it.
Then deleted it.
Not angrily.
There was simply nothing left I needed from him.
That evening, Grant came over to help me install shelves in the studio.
Halfway through, he drilled into the wrong spot.
I stared.
He stared at the hole.
“I’m going to blame the wall.”
“You own a restoration company.”
“The wall is hostile.”
I laughed so hard I had to sit down.
Then Grant looked at me.
Really looked.
“I love you.”
The room went quiet.
He did not immediately add:
Do you love me?
He did not make the statement an invoice.
I stood.
Walked toward him.
“I love you too.”
The words felt frightening.
And free.
Then he kissed me beside the damaged wall.
Later, Sophie discovered the hole.
She looked at us.
“Professionals.”
Grant said:
“The building shifted.”
I said:
“He’s lying.”
Sophie smiled.
May you like
For the first time, love inside my house did not feel like something I had to manage.
It simply felt welcome.
