Page 59 of Nanny for the Bikers

“Look, Ayla,” Lila begins, her words measured and deliberate. “I owe you an apology. A huge one.”

I blink, surprised by the sincere regret in her tone.

She takes a deep breath. “I was wrong, before. The things I said to you...calling you a whore...I had no right. I wasn’t supportive and I know I hurt you deeply. I’m so sorry.”

Shock ripples through me at her raw honesty. Lila never apologizes, never admits fault. Yet here she is, walls lowered, laying herself bare. A part of me is suspicious, wondering if this is some sort of trick or joke, but a bigger part hopes she’s telling me the truth.

Do I dare believe her? Let her back in, risk being hurt again? The little girl inside me aches to embrace my big sister, but the woman I’ve become hesitates, scars still tender.

I swallow hard. “Why apologize now, after all this time?” The question slips out, vulnerable and raw. “I don’t think you’ve ever apologized to me.”

Lila meets my gaze head-on. “Because I miss you, Ayla. And it’s eaten at me, how badly I failed you as a sister. I want to do better, if you’ll let me.”

From behind her back, Lila produces a neatly wrapped package, holding it out to me like an olive branch. “I brought you a birthday present. Something special, just for you.”

Curiosity wars with caution as I slowly accept the gift, fingers brushing against the glossy paper. With a deep breath, I tear into the wrapping, revealing a beautifully bound scrapbook. Memories of our childhood stare back at me from the cover, two little girls with gap-toothed grins and mischief in their eyes.

“Open it,” Lila whispers, her voice thick with emotion.

Page by page, I flip through the scrapbook, each carefully crafted collage tugging at my heartstrings. Lila’s gentle touch is evident in every detail, from the handwritten captions to the pressed flowers adorning each photograph. Tears prick at the corners of my eyes as I trace my fingertips over an image of us, arms wrapped around each other, giggling in the summer sun.

“You kept all these?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

Lila nods, her own eyes glistening. “Of course I did. Those memories, they’re a part of us, Ayla.”

At that moment, the walls around my heart begin to crumble. The love and effort poured into this gift, the vulnerability in Lila’s eyes... it’s the apology I never knew I needed.

Slowly, I close the distance between us, wrapping my arms around my sister in a fierce hug. She clings to me, her tears dampening my shoulder as we both let the years of hurt and misunderstanding melt away. I’m so tired of having walls up against everyone. I want to be happy with people who care about me, who love me.

“I forgive you, Lila,” I whisper, my voice trembling with emotion. “And I’m sorry too, for pushing you away.”

We stay like that for a long moment, holding each other tight, the scrapbook pressed between us like a bridge spanning the gap of lost time.

As we finally pull apart, I wipe away my tears, a tentative smile tugging at my lips. “Why don’t you stay for the weekend? We have a lot of catching up to do.”

Lila’s face lights up, relief and joy shining in her eyes. “I’d love that, Ayla. More than anything.”

I take a deep breath, feeling a weight lift from my chest as Lila and I step back into the living room.

“Everyone, I’d like you to meet my sister, Lila,” I announce, my voice steadier than I feel. “She’s going to be staying with us for the weekend.”

Teller is the first to approach, his dark eyes warm and inviting. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lila. Welcome to our home.” His deep voice resonates through the room, and I can see Lila’s guarded expression soften slightly.

Clay follows suit, his tall frame exuding a calm authority as he extends his hand to Lila. “We’re glad you could join us for Ayla’s birthday celebration. Make yourself at home.”

Kip looks over at me, knowing how my last conversation went with Lila but I nod at him, telling him it’s okay. Kip, ever the charmer, flashes Lila a friendly grin. “It’s not every day we get to meet Ayla’s mysterious sister. I hope you’re ready for some serious birthday fun!”

I go over to Clay and take Piper out of his hands before showing her to Lila. “And this little bean is Piper, the girl I nanny.”

Lila’s face turns into a grin. “She’s beautiful.”

“Isn’t she?”

“I would drop everything for her too.”

The evening unfolds in a blur of laughter and conversation, the tension from earlier dissipating with each passing moment. Teller, Clay, and Kip go out of their way to include Lila, asking about her interests and sharing stories of their own.

As we gather around the cake, their voices rising in a slightly off-key rendition of “Happy Birthday,” I feel a rush of pure, unadulterated joy. I look around at their smiling faces, illuminated by the glow of the candles, and I make a wish - awish for this moment to last forever, for this happiness to never fade.

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