Chapter 9
The bookstore opened three months later.
We called it Hale & Page.
The opening day was perfect.
Sunny. Warm. A line of people wrapped around the block before we even unlocked the doors.
Jake was there, wearing his “I ❤️ MY WIFE” t-shirt, helping people carry stacks of books to their cars, grinning like an idiot the whole time.
Sarah came, bringing a huge bouquet of sunflowers.
The guys from the auto shop came, all in their grease-stained coveralls, buying armfuls of books they’d probably never read just to support me.
And halfway through the day, Charlotte showed up.
She was wearing her work clothes, a stack of flyers in her hand for the design firm she worked for.
“Congratulations,” she said, hugging me. “This place is amazing.”
She’d designed all the bookmarks for the store, for free, in her spare time.
They were beautiful.
Watercolor flowers, little quotes about reading, our store name at the bottom in elegant script.
“Thanks for coming,” I said.
She smiled, then looked over my shoulder, her face falling a little.
I turned.
My parents were standing in the doorway, hovering, like they were scared to come in.
They’d called a week earlier, out of the blue.
Said they’d seen the news about the store.
Said they were proud of me.
Said they wanted to start over.
I’d hesitated, then told them they could come to the opening.
But only if they behaved.
Only if they treated Jake with respect.
Only if they stopped treating Charlotte like a disappointment and me like a prize to be won now that I was married to a billionaire.
Mom walked in first, holding a potted orchid.
Dad was right behind her, holding a framed photo of me and Charlotte when we were little, covered in cake at our 5th and 7th birthday party.
“Mia,” Mom said, her voice soft. “This place is beautiful.”
“Thanks,” I said, cautious.
Jake walked over, slipping his hand into mine.
Mom flinched a little, then held out her hand to him.
“Jake,” she said. “It’s nice to see you again. I… I owe you an apology. For the way I spoke to you at the cottage. For the way I’ve treated both of you. It was wrong. And I’m sorry.”
Jake shook her hand, his face polite but guarded.
“Thank you,” he said.
Dad clapped him on the shoulder, a little too hard.
“Good man,” he said. “Good man.”
Then they saw Charlotte, standing off to the side, pretending to look at a shelf of romance novels.
Mom’s face softened.
“Charlotte,” she said, walking over.
Charlotte tensed.
“Hi, Mom,” she said, not looking at her.
Mom reached out, touching her arm.
“I heard about your job,” she said, quiet. “At the design firm. Your boss called me last week. Said you’re the best employee she’s ever had. Said you work harder than anyone else there.”
Charlotte’s head snapped up, her eyes wide.
“She did?” she said.
Mom nodded, tears glistening in her eyes.
“I’m so proud of you,” she said. “I know I haven’t always shown it. I know I’ve put too much pressure on you. On both of you. I’ve spent so many years worrying about what other people thought, about status and money and appearances… I forgot what matters. My girls. That’s all that matters.”
She pulled Charlotte into a hug.
Charlotte froze for a second, then broke down crying, wrapping her arms around Mom, holding on tight like she was scared she’d let go.
Dad walked over, wrapping his arms around both of them, his own eyes wet.
I stood there, watching them, Jake’s hand warm in mine.
It wasn’t perfect.
There was still a lot of hurt.
A lot of years of favoritism and cruelty and mistakes to work through.
But it was a start.
A real one.
At the end of the day, after the last customer had left, we locked the doors, all of us—me, Jake, Charlotte, Mom, Dad—sitting on the floor of the bookstore, eating leftover cake from the opening.
Mom looked at me, then at Charlotte.
“I was wrong,” she said, quiet. “About everything. I thought money and status would make you happy. I thought if I pushed you to be perfect, you’d be safe. But all I did was make you both feel like you weren’t enough. And for that… I will be sorry for the rest of my life.”
Dad nodded.
“We’re going to do better,” he said. “We’re going to go to therapy. All of us, if you want. We’re going to learn how to be a real family. The kind that loves each other no matter what. Not just when it’s convenient.”
I looked at Jake.
He smiled, squeezing my hand.
“I’d like that,” I said.
Charlotte nodded, wiping her eyes.
“Me too,” she said.
That night, Jake and I walked home from the bookstore, hand in hand, the sun setting pink and orange over the lake.
We stopped at the end of our driveway, looking up at the cottage, the porch light glowing warm.
“Today was perfect,” I said, leaning my head on his shoulder.
“Not as perfect as what I have planned for tomorrow,” he said, grinning.
I raised an eyebrow.
May you like
“Oh yeah?” I said. “What’s that?”
“You’ll see,” he said, kissing the top of my head. “Tomorrow, everything changes. For the better. I promise.”
