Page 143 of The Cinderella Arrangement

“Come in,” he said in his rolling, deep voice.

I followed Will, feeling horrible as I walked through the narrow doorway, brushing past Mr. Metsky. Inside was a small, carpeted family room. Two couches surrounded acoffee table where a large portrait of a young girl sat upright, grinning. Will shuddered to a stop and stared in horror at the photo until I sidled up against him and pinched his arm, hard enough to snap him out of it.

On the couch were several people with varying degrees of hostility. There were Julian’s mother, a teenage boy, and others who I assumed to be part of the Ramos family. I froze.

What do we do now? Do we shake their hands and introduce ourselves?

Will shoved his hands deep into his pockets. “I’m Will. This is my girlfriend, Natalie.”

I gave them a weak smile and flinched as their eyes flicked to me like hot, stabbing knives.

“I’m sorry that it took so long for us to be in the same room together.”

Mr. Metsky gestured toward the couch and Will and I crammed ourselves beside the others, uncomfortable beyond belief. The tall man sat down on the leather chair opposite us.

“You’re having some week, aren’t you?”

Having nothing to say to that, William kept silent. He couldn’t stop staring at the giant portrait of Julian, which was in front of him. It seemed like it was placed there deliberately, to remind him of the beautiful little girl he destroyed.

“I wanted to visit for many years, I couldn’t pluck up the courage. I—”

“Give me a break,” the boy suddenly spat out. “He’s just here because he wants to make himself look better.”

“Jimmy!” The father snapped at his son.

So he’s Julian’s older brother. That would explain the hostility.

“We wanted you to come because we thought that the media was treating you unfairly,” Julian’s mother spoke beside him.

What? I shared an incredulous look with Will.

“Really?”

The father cleared his throat. “You weren’t the driver. We don’t blame you at all.” His eyes flicked toward the Ramos family, who so far said nothing. From the looks on their faces, they didn’t seem to agree.

He shook his head, looking miserable. “I didn’t stop him. It was my car.”

I saw them exchange glances. This was not going how they expected.

Will was breaking down. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the picture; he couldn’t quiet the grief stirring in his body.

“I’m sorry!” he burst out. He opened his mouth to speak but all that came out was a strangled sob, then he broke down completely, his back heaving with sobs.

Julian’s parents looked at me with shocked expressions. Julian’s mother, a woman with long blonde hair, reached out and held his hand, and Will looked at it as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Neither did I.

Will sobs subsided, and he took a tissue box on the table and dabbed his eyes. “Every day, I hate myself for not being able to save her. I didn’t come here to absolve myself of responsibility. I wanted to come here and apologize and—and ask you whether I can—if there’s anything you want me to do.”

Forgiveness, I urged him.

“Can you bring up my daughter and her husband from the dead?”

He swallowed. “No.”

“Then there’s nothing you can do.” She turned around to her husband. “Tim, let’s leave. I can’t stand looking at this guy.”

Will was stricken as they stood up to leave.

Mr. Metsky was upset. “Please don’t. You said in the beginning you only wanted to see if he felt any remorse.”

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