Page 94 of These Thin Lines

“Told her not to call you before dawn. She thinks I’ll die. No chance. I’ve waited for forty years to pay her back. I’m not kicking the bucket before I have my fill.”

Arabella sniffed, trying to hide the obvious sob behind an arrogant sneer, but she couldn’t pull it off. The tears that had been filling those eyes earlier spilled, and soon everyone in the room was crying. As she tried to dry her eyes, Chiara thought there had been too many tears in the past five weeks. More than in the past five years.

“Bella, can you…” Renate’s limp fingers gestured to Vi and to the door, and Arabella was in motion instantly. “Nothing personal, Courtenay. And thank you for being here with Chiara. Or should I say, being with her, period?” Renate tried to sit up and Chiara rushed to her side to help her, only to be waved away as her former sister-in-law settled back on the pillow and rasped, still addressing Vi. “I’m sorry, you know, for before. And for five years ago. We will talk. Later? Please go keep Frankie company, before Aoife maims her for annoying the hell out of the staff here.”

Vi’s wet eyes twinkled.

“And you assume she won’t irritateme? Of all people?”

Renate’s smile was tired. “I have an inkling you can take her.Out of all people.And all things considered, perhaps you should? Don’t you think?”

Vi lowered her head, and Chiara felt like they were speaking in a language she didn’t understand. But Vi was already giving her hand another squeeze before allowing Arabella to accompany her back to the other side of the glass and down the long corridor, where Chiara could clearly see a pacing figure. How had she missed Frankie on their way in?

“Chiara…” Renate’s voice drew her out of her thoughts, as always, gentle yet firm. Chiara swallowed around the lump in her throat.

“I’m here.”

“I can see just fine,Liebling. I’m not dying, no matter what those hacks told Arabella. They figure if they sell this as them saving me, she will pour even more money down the black hole of this place. Plus, she lost one of her four husbands in this very ICU. I’m not doing this to her, even if she deserves that and more…”

Renate cackled, then closed her eyes, taking deep breaths. Chiara reached for her fingers and held them carefully.

“No, no, stop with the maudlin nonsense. I don’t mean any of that. I realized something in these few weeks with Arabella.” Chiara raised her eyes in surprise and Renate’s were serious, looking at her with so much intensity she wanted to flinch. “Forgiveness, Chiara. You either give it, or you don’t. Love, lust, trust… They are all good and fine. But forgiveness? If you don’t give that? Wholeheartedly? All of it? It will sit inside your chest like a stone. And one day, you’ll reach for it and throw it and break everything you have been building.”

Renate took a shaky breath, and Chiara knew only her formidable will was keeping her talking. And so she didn’t interrupt.

“Vi… You deserve the truth. So be honest with yourself. With her too. Either forgive. Or forget.”

“I already did—”

“Did you?”

“I love her, Renate. I feel the same way I always have, even in Paris.”

“So you’re the prince…” Renate smiled, and Chiara raised an uncomprehending eyebrow. “Prince to her Cinderella.” The chuckle, exhausted and pained, still sounded self-satisfied. “How the mighty have fallen. A Converse-wearing Cinderella and a Blahnik-adorned Prince. Only you, Chiara…”

Chiara scoffed, but Renate’s face was serious again.

“You love her. Super.” The German accent deepened on the last word. “Now forgive her. Or let her go. And forgive yourself. Both of you atoning for your imaginary sins.” A disdainful tsk followed and Chiara thought this was a good moment to interrupt, but Renate kept going, barreling over her in a gesture so familiar, Chiara had to smile.

“You think you were wrong in Paris. To allow her to love you. I know. You’ve been making up for it ever since. And she will never stop atoning for everything that happened after. Peas in a pod, the two of you. You love her and she loves you. Amazing. Now, for fuck’s sake, forgive each other.”

Another deep breath, and now the somber eyes were wet as well. “And forgive me, too. With any luck, you already have. Because you have this absolutely dumbass capacity to just up and move on from everything that happens to you, then internalize them ‘til they choke you—’”

“Are you psychoanalyzing me from an ICU bed? Was there a light at the end of the tunnel? Did you get to talk to some supernatural being?”

She tried for levity and saw the bluish lips twitch.

“No deity. No light. Must not be the end yet. But I am sorry. And I ask you to forgive me.Business.That was my line. The one I crossed when I sacrificed your happiness. It was even more stupid than Aoife’s. At least hers was love.” Renate stopped and motioned for a glass on her bedside that held water. Her hand was remarkably steady when Chiara helped her drink.

“Mine was family and business. I knew she was cheating, yet I said nothing. In the end, I lost neither, because, first and foremost, you are family. And you built something that’s bigger than Lilien Haus. If not in size, then certainly with how special it is. Iconic. Forgive me.”

Chiara lifted the limp hand she’d been holding and kissed the knuckles.

“Always. Anything. Everything. I love you.”

Renate tugged on her hand. “Say it.” When she let go, Renate splayed her fingers on Chiara’s cheek. The dry skin was now trembling slightly, whether with exhaustion or emotion, Chiara didn’t know.

“I forgive you.”

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