Ashley jumps up from beside me and stands with her hands on her hips.
“Right, stop your snivelling just for five fucking minutes and listen up.”
I shoot a look across to Jim, who just frowns and shrugs her shoulders.
“You and Sean were not a fucking fairy tale couple. You were real people, with real problems. No marriage is perfect, not a single one. I don’t know why, for all these years, you’ve thought that yours and Sean’s was, but it wasn’t. So, build a fucking bridge and get over it. You were two people who loved each other passionately. No one will ever call that into question, but that alone does not make for a perfect marriage. Sadly, Sean died. Sean died and you lost Beau and it was horrible, fucking awful, George. Not just for you either, I might add, it was fucking horrible for all of us. Then you got lucky. You got so fucking lucky. TDH did exactly what Sean predicted he would. He swept in, he picked you up, and bit by bit, he put you back together.”
She pauses to take a swig of her wine, and I take that moment to draw breath. Apparently, while she was speaking, I’d forgotten to breathe.
“Where you go from here is entirely up to you. You either finally accept that what you had with Maca was beautiful, but far from perfect, and move on, enjoying the amazing and wonderful life you have with Cam and the kids guilt free. Or you ignore everything that you’ve discovered by reading these letters and continue living half a life, weighed down with the unnecessary guilt you feel because of past actions that can never be changed. What’s it gonna be? You finally gonna give Cam everything, every little piece that makes you who you, or are you gonna keep riding the ‘I’m Not Worthy’ train?”
The three of us sit in silence.
“I Will Survive” by Gloria Gaynor starts to play and totally in sync, the three of us look up towards the speakers in the ceiling. We start to laugh. I wipe the tears from under my eyes.
“It’s time,” I say quietly.
“Yes, it fucking is,” Ash states before high fiving me.
We put the letters away and have a party for three in my office. We set my “Old Skool Club Classics” playlist up and dance the night away. The last thing I remember is singing Alison Limerick’s “Where Love Lives” into an empty wine bottle. All of us finally crashing in my bed at around four in the morning.
Despite the lateness of the hour and the wine I’ve consumed, I can’t sleep. I toss and turn for about half an hour before Ash whisper shouts, “Stop fucking thinking, George. The sound of your brain is keeping me awake.”
“I can’t help it.”
“Yes, you can,” Jimmie joins in. “Like Ash says, build a bridge and get the fuck over it. You are both the unluckiest and luckiest person I’ve ever known. It’s about time you started enjoying the good and letting go of the bad. Life is short and then you die. You know first-hand how that one works. Time to move on, George. We’re all sick of ya whining.”
“Yeah, bored. Bored. Bored,” Ash adds.
“Gee, thanks ladies.”
“Anytime. Now, go to fucking sleep before I put this pillow over your head.”
“And I help her hold it down,” Jimmie offers.
I go to sleep.
EPILOGUE
I put the potato salad I just made into the fridge. I’ve followed Marian’s recipe to the letter and can only hope and pray I haven’t fucked it up. There was very little cooking involved, except for parboiling some potatoes and frying the bacon, so I have every hope.
I know he’s there before I even straighten up. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end as his big arms slide around my waist.
He trails kisses over my neck before whispering in my ear, “I’m gonna slap that skinny little arse of yours till it’s raw next time you ignore my texts and calls. Whose dick indeed.” He bites and then sucks my neck. “I’ve missed you so fucking much, Mrs King.”
I turn myself around in his arms and wrap mine around his neck. “You have no idea, baby. No fucking idea.”
He claims my mouth, and it takes me less than a second to surrender.
I waited for Dido to start playing “White Flag”. But instead, it is Shine Down’s “Second Chance” that comes over the hidden speakers.
“Get a room you two. Where are the beers, big man?”
I look around Cam’s broad chest to see my brother trying to get around us to the fridge.
“Big brother Marley, me and you need to talk.”