Chapter 9 - What Forgiveness Is Not
Six months passed.
Audrey did not move back into the penthouse.
That surprised almost everyone except Dominic.
He never asked her to.
Instead, Audrey rented a townhouse in Lincoln Park.
Dominic paid nothing toward it because Audrey refused.
He came to every prenatal appointment.
He attended birthing classes.
He learned how to install a car seat and failed so spectacularly the instructor eventually took pity on him.
Audrey laughed for five straight minutes.
Dominic looked offended.
“You control half of Chicago and a plastic buckle defeated you.”
“I no longer control half of Chicago.”
“Fine. Former terrifying criminal mastermind.”
“The instructions were poorly written.”
“They had pictures.”
“I found them condescending.”
For one beautiful moment, they felt married again.
Then Audrey remembered Serena.
The memory no longer destroyed her.
But it remained.
Healing, Audrey discovered, wasn't forgetting.
It was learning that a scar could exist without controlling every movement.
Dominic changed too.
He completed the dismantling of his criminal operations.
Several legitimate Calder businesses were sold.
Others underwent independent audits.
He established a security consulting company with Marcus and quietly funded a legal-aid foundation for families harmed by organized crime.
Audrey didn't reward him for any of it.
That mattered.
Dominic wasn't changing to win points.
He was changing because the man he had been had finally become intolerable to himself.
One evening, at thirty-four weeks pregnant, Audrey found him assembling a crib in her nursery.
Incorrectly.
“Dominic.”
He looked up.
“Yes?”
“The side panel is backward.”
He stared at it.
“No, it isn't.”
She pointed.
He looked.
Silence.
Audrey smiled.
“Say it.”
“No.”
“Say Audrey was right.”
“I've admitted to federal crimes with less difficulty.”
She laughed.
Dominic stared at her.
“What?”
“I missed that.”
Her smile slowly faded.
“What?”
“You laughing at me.”
Something warm and painful moved between them.
Dominic stood.
“I should go.”
“Stay for dinner.”
He stopped.
It was the first invitation she'd given him in months.
Dinner became pasta because Audrey wanted carbohydrates and Dominic could cook exactly three things.
Afterward, they sat on the porch.
“Do you still love me?” Audrey asked.
Dominic looked at her.
“Yes.”
No hesitation.
“Do you expect me to forgive you?”
“No.”
That surprised her.
“Why not?”
“Because forgiveness isn't something I'm owed.”
Audrey studied him.
“What if I never trust you the way I did?”
“Then I'll spend whatever time you give me being trustworthy anyway.”
Her eyes filled.
“That was annoyingly good.”
“I rehearsed it.”
She laughed.
Then winced.
Dominic stood immediately.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Audrey.”
“Your daughter just kicked my bladder.”
He froze.
“Daughter?”
Audrey realized what she'd said.
They had agreed not to learn the sex.
At least Dominic thought they had.
Audrey had accidentally seen it in her medical portal two weeks earlier.
Dominic stared at her stomach.
“We're having a girl?”
Audrey smiled.
“We're having a girl.”
The expression on his face was unlike anything she had ever seen.
Joy.
Terror.
Wonder.
Then their daughter kicked again.
Audrey took Dominic's hand.
“Here.”
She placed it against her stomach.
He felt the movement.
His eyes filled.
Dominic Calder, who had once watched a man point a gun at him without blinking, looked completely overwhelmed by a five-pound unborn girl kicking his palm.
“Hi,” he whispered.
Audrey's heart broke open a little.
Not from pain this time.
Two weeks later, at 3:11 a.m., Audrey woke to a contraction.
At 3:27, her water broke.
At 3:31, she called Dominic.
He answered before the first ring finished.
“What's wrong?”
“Nothing.”
A contraction hit.
Audrey grabbed the kitchen counter.
“Oh, God.”
Dominic's voice changed instantly.
“Is it the baby?”
“Yes.”
“I’m coming.”
“Drive normally.”
He hung up.
Maya, who had been staying with Audrey, appeared carrying three bags.
“You ready?”
“No.”
“Excellent. That's apparently how childbirth works.”
Seven minutes later, headlights swept across the windows.
Dominic had arrived.
Audrey opened the door.
He stood there pale, breathless, and terrified.
She stared at him.
“You drove normally?”
“Yes.”
Behind him, Marcus stepped from the SUV.
“No.”
Dominic glared.
Marcus shrugged.
“I'm done lying for you.”
Audrey started laughing.
Then another contraction hit.
Dominic caught her.
“I've got you.”
Audrey looked into his eyes.
For months, those words would have frightened her.
Tonight they didn't.
At the hospital, labor lasted eleven hours.
Dominic never left.
At 2:08 p.m., Audrey screamed, cried, cursed him twice, threatened him once, and crushed three of his fingers.
Then a baby's cry filled the room.
Everything stopped.
The nurse lifted their daughter.
Dominic broke.
He covered his face.
Audrey had never seen him cry openly.
Not once.
The nurse placed the baby against Audrey's chest.
Audrey looked down at the tiny face.
“Hello, sweetheart.”
Dominic stood beside her.
Audrey looked up.
“Come meet your daughter.”
He approached.
Then his phone vibrated.
Once.
He ignored it.
Again.
Audrey glanced toward it.
“Check it.”
Dominic reluctantly looked.
His expression changed.
“What?”
He turned the screen toward her.
A message from an unknown number.
Congratulations on your daughter, little brother.
Below it was a photograph.
Adrian.
Alive.
Standing beneath palm trees somewhere far from Chicago.
May you like
And beneath the photograph were five final words:
This time, choose your family.
