Chapter 8
I called Clara the next day.
I asked her if she wanted to get coffee.
She said yes.
We met at a small café downtown.
We talked for three hours.
About everything.
Nothing.
She told me about growing up in foster care.
About how she’d become a social worker because she wanted to be the person she’d needed as a kid.
I told her about Olivia.
About the trial.
About Lila.
I didn’t hold anything back.
I expected her to run.
Most people did, when they heard the whole story.
But she didn’t.
She just reached across the table and put her hand on mine.
“That must’ve been so hard,” she said softly. “For both of you.”
That was it.
No judgment.
No pity.
Just kindness.
I knew right then.
She was different.
We started seeing each other after that.
Coffee turned into dinner.
Dinner turned into walks in the park.
I introduced her to Lila two weeks later.
I was nervous.
Lila was protective of me.
If she didn’t like Clara, it was over.
But they hit it off immediately.
Clara brought Lila a set of watercolor paints.
They sat at the kitchen table for two hours, painting rainbows and unicorns.
Lila laughed more that afternoon than I’d seen her laugh in months.
After Clara left, Lila turned to me, serious.
“I like her,” she said. “A lot. You better not mess it up.”
I laughed.
“I’ll try not to.”
Things moved fast after that.
Clara was at the house most nights.
She helped Lila with her homework.
She made pancakes on Sundays.
She sat with me on the porch after Lila went to bed, and we talked until the stars came out.
For the first time in my life, I felt like I had a real family.
Not the fake, perfect family Olivia had pretended we had.
A real one.
Messy.
Loud.
Full of love.
Six months after we met, Clara moved in.
Lila was ecstatic.
She helped Clara carry her boxes up to the spare room.
“Now you’re here forever,” she said, grinning.
Clara laughed and hugged her.
“Forever sounds good to me.”
I watched them, my throat tight.
I’d spent so long being scared.
Scared of being betrayed.
Scared of being hurt again.
But Clara had taught me that not everyone was like Olivia.
Some people were good.
Some people loved you for you.
Not for your money.
Not for what you could give them.
Just for you.
One night, after Lila was asleep, Clara and I were sitting on the porch.
The fireflies were dancing in the backyard.
She leaned her head on my shoulder.
“I love you, Ethan,” she said quietly.
I kissed the top of her head.
“I love you too, Clara. More than anything.”
And for the first time since that day by the gate, when Lila had grabbed my arm and changed my life forever, I felt completely at peace.
The past was behind me.
Olivia was in prison, where she belonged.
Tom was back at work, happier than ever.
Mrs. Hale had moved into the house down the street, so she was always close by.
Marcus was still my head of security, but now he spent most of his time teaching Lila how to throw a baseball.
Everything was exactly as it should be.
May you like
But there was one more thing I wanted to do.
One more thing to make it perfect.
