Chapter 31: Daddy’s Dirty Little Secret: Chapter 31

It had been nearly a month since Hayes let her walk out of that house. A month since I stood in Laurence’s driveway, furious and exhausted, wondering what the hell we were supposed to do next. Now it was the end of May, and he’d invited us over for dinner like we were just another family getting together for a quiet meal.

I said yes, partly because Amelia wanted to go, but also because I needed to see him in person. Amelia sat beside me in the car, watching the side mirror more than the road. She hadn’t dressed up for the occasion. No makeup, just a soft cardigan over a cream blouse. She looked calm, but I could feel her tension from where I sat.

Laurence opened the door before we reached the top step. His face didn’t give anything away—neither tense nor friendly. He stepped back without a word and let us inside.

“Dinner’s just about done,” he said, finally breaking the silence. “I made too much.”

We followed him into the dining room. The table was already set. He’d laid out actual napkins. Not paper. Silverware lined up perfectly. The dishes were simple—roast chicken, seasoned vegetables, mashed potatoes in a serving bowl with a real spoon instead of something plastic. I didn’t know if it was effort or guilt, but either way, he’d gone through the motions like it meant something.

We sat. Amelia to my right, Laurence across from me. The air between him and me was stiff, but it wasn’t angry anymore. We had both lived through the kind of mistake that burned too much out of you to hold onto rage. What was left now was quieter. Complicated.

Amelia picked at her food, though I noticed she ate more than she had in days. She complimented the seasoning, and Laurence gave a soft thanks but didn’t look up.

We were halfway through the meal when he set his fork down. The scrape of metal on ceramic pulled both our eyes to him.

“I know I said it already,” he started, voice rough, “but I need to say it properly this time.”

I didn’t speak. Neither did Amelia.

“I should’ve told her everything,” he said, looking at his daughter, not at me. “I should’ve asked for help before it got that far. I kept thinking I’d fix it on my own, and then I didn’t, and it was too late. That’s when I got stupid.”

Amelia reached across the table and touched his hand. “I know, Dad. It’s okay.”

“It’s not. You were the one who paid for it. And Xander—” He finally looked at me. “You cleaned it up. All of it. I put you in an impossible position and then handed you a bill for something you never owed. I’ll never forget that.”

I leaned back slightly, resting one arm against the edge of the chair. “No one was keeping score, Laurence. You would’ve done the same for her if you could’ve. I know that.”

“I should’ve protected her,” he said. “Instead, I let her walk into something I should’ve seen coming. And then I made her feel like it was her fault. That day she showed up at my house—when she found the emails—I was awful to her. I didn’t know how scared I was until she was gone.”

The room fell quiet again. Not empty—just full of everything none of us could fix.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” he said. “But I wanted to say it all the same.”

Amelia gave his hand a squeeze. “I already did.”

I didn’t say anything right away. I looked at him and saw the same man I’d known for years, but smaller somehow. Not physically. Something inside him had worn down. Maybe it was shame. Maybe it was just age finally catching up to the way he lived. Either way, he meant it. That counted for something.

“I appreciate the words,” I said. “But this doesn’t get fixed with an apology. It gets fixed with what happens next.”

Laurence nodded slowly, like he expected that to be the end of it. He shifted in his seat, reaching for his glass of water. His hand didn’t quite shake, but there was something cautious in the way he moved. Then he cleared his throat.

“I meant what I said about paying it back,” he told me. “Even if it takes the rest of my life. I’ll figure it out.”

I shook my head before he could get any further. “That’s not what I want.”

His brow tightened. “What do you mean?”

I looked at him, really looked, the way I used to in meetings when I needed to make sure someone understood the weight behind my words. “You can keep the money. What I want is your partnership. Back on paper. Back in the room.”

He stared at me, confused.

“You were the magic man,” I said. “You were the one who brought the clients in, made them feel like they belonged. I’ve got spreadsheets and a good pitch, but that’s not what made us work. You did. And ever since you stepped away, we’ve been holding steady, not growing. I don’t need my money back. I need my closer.”

Laurence blinked like I’d slapped him. My mind went to the day he left, and how confident I’d felt. But after losing so many clients, I no longer felt that way.

“You’d give me a salary,” he said. “After what I pulled?”

“I’d call it a job,” I said. “Not a favor. But yeah.”

He didn’t speak. He just sat there with his mouth half open. I glanced over at Amelia. Her hand had come up to her mouth, and her eyes were glassy. I gave her a small smile.

“Don’t cry yet,” I told her.

She let out a quiet laugh that sounded like she was trying not to fall apart entirely.

I turned back to Laurence. “There’s one condition.”

He looked wary now. “What’s that?”

I stood, reaching into my jacket pocket. My fingers closed around the box. It had been sitting there since last week, waiting for the right moment. I didn’t know if this was it, but I wasn’t waiting anymore.

“I want your blessing,” I said. “Because I want to marry your daughter.”

The silence hit harder than I expected. Amelia froze. Laurence blinked. I opened the box and set it on the table between them, the diamond catching the light in a way that felt almost too on the nose.

“I know it’s fast,” I said. “I know she’s younger than me. But I also know what I want. And I’m too old to waste time not having it.”

Laurence stared at the ring, then at me. His mouth opened, but it took a second for anything to come out.

“She’s …” He stopped, then started again. “You’re serious?”

“As a heart attack,” I said. “Half a million might as well count as a dowry, right?”

That broke the tension. Amelia made a noise that was half laugh, half sob. I grinned, and then she burst into laughter, and I joined her. Laurence looked between the two of us, then leaned back and rubbed a hand over his face. When he pulled it away, he was grinning too—like an idiot. The joke simmered all the negative vibes in the air and eased my anxiety.

“She’s got a mind of her own,” he said eventually. “Always has. And I won’t pretend I’m not still trying to wrap my head around all of this. But if you’re in this for real—if you’re going to treat her like she matters every day, not just when it’s easy—then you have my blessing.”

Amelia let out a breath like she’d been holding it for hours. I walked over and took her hand. She stood slowly. When I got down on one knee, her lips parted like she couldn’t believe I was doing this here, in her father’s dining room, right after mashed potatoes and a confession.

“Amelia Johnson,” I said, holding her hand in mine, “I want to spend the rest of my life with you. And this kid. And probably a few more, if we’re not careful. Will you marry me?”

She nodded so fast it made me grin. “Yes. Of course yes.”

I slid the ring onto her finger, stood up, and pulled her into me. Her arms wrapped around my neck, and when I looked over her shoulder, Laurence was smiling, his eyes damp.

She held my hand like it was the easiest thing in the world. Like I hadn’t once made a habit out of keeping people at arm’s length, or burned every bridge before someone else could. All my life, I told myself it was safer to want nothing than to risk losing something I couldn’t get back.

That started the day my mother packed a bag and walked out. I’d asked her to stay. I meant it. I was twelve, barely old enough to understand what was happening, but I still knew what goodbye looked like. She didn’t answer. Just walked out the front door and never looked back.

Since then, I’d made a career out of being untouchable. I built walls. I stayed in control. I kept things casual, kept people at a distance, and convinced myself it was enough. I told myself I liked it that way. I didn’t owe anyone anything, and no one could disappoint me.

And then Amelia happened.

She walked into my office, confident and capable, and I didn’t think twice. I thought I could keep her in that same safe category—attractive, competent, off-limits. But somehow she made me forget I had limits in the first place. She didn’t ask for anything. She didn’t press. She just stayed. Even when I gave her reasons not to. Even when I made it harder than it had to be. Even when I didn’t deserve it.

Now she stood next to me in her father’s kitchen, the ring on her finger catching the light above the sink. She hadn’t stopped smiling since she said yes, but it wasn’t a big, giddy kind of smile. It was quiet. Certain. Like she wasn’t afraid anymore, and maybe she didn’t think I would be either.

I looked down at our hands, still laced together. I could feel the weight of everything we’d been through sitting in the room with us—Hayes, the money, the months of miscommunication and almosts. All of it had led here.

And for the first time in my life, I wasn’t trying to run from what I felt. I wasn’t trying to contain it or bury it under something easier. I had someone. I had her. And I wasn’t going to lose that.

Not to fear. Not to pride. Not to the past.

She turned slightly and looked up at me, eyes steady, waiting for whatever came next.

I didn’t need to plan the words. They were already there.

“I love you,” I said, and my voice didn’t shake. “I mean it. I love you.”

Her eyes went wide for a second. Then she smiled in that soft way she did when something truly mattered to her. She didn’t rush to fill the silence. She didn’t smother the moment. She just leaned in and rested her forehead against mine.

“I know,” she said quietly. “And I love you, too.”

We stood there for a while in that little kitchen, hands clasped, her father somewhere down the hall giving us space he didn’t used to know how to give. The past wasn’t erased. It was still there. But it wasn’t running the show anymore.

This was real. It was ours. And for once, I wasn’t bracing for the moment it would slip away.

I was holding on.