Chapter 22 - Brielle and Me
I saw Brielle at Charles’s memorial.
We had not spoken directly in years.
She approached after service.
“Can I say something?”
“Yes.”
She looked older.
Not dramatically.
Just like someone who had spent years being a parent instead of a fantasy.
“I knew Grant might be Nolan’s father.”
“I know.”
“I did not know for sure.”
“I know.”
“I told myself Preston was because he wanted it.”
“Yes.”
“And because I wanted what came with him.”
“Yes.”
She swallowed.
“I’m sorry.”
“For affair?”
“For treating your daughters like obstacle.”
That landed differently.
“I used Preston’s language. I laughed when he said girls were not future. I wanted him to choose me badly enough that I let children become competition.”
I looked at her.
“You were twenty-four.”
“That doesn’t excuse.”
“No.”
“I’m thirty-five now. I cannot imagine looking at a six-year-old and thinking she took something from me.”
“Good.”
She nodded.
“I don’t expect friendship.”
“You won’t get one.”
She almost smiled.
“I figured.”
“But I accept apology.”
Her eyes filled.
“Thank you.”
We never became friends.
May you like
We became women connected by children in same extended family.
That was enough.
