Page 113 of Bleeding Hearts

For now, my therapist suggested writing you this letter, and I only hope you can understand.

I hope that one day, you’ll be able to forgive me, and I’ll be able to accept that forgiveness. I hope that one day we may try to rebuild our relationship and I can be a part of your life. But for the time being, I have to focus on myself and my own recovery.

However, I do want you to know how incredibly proud I am of you. You have grown up to become a kind, strong, incredible woman in spite of your father and me. To know that you’re opening up your own restaurant and achieving your dreams makes me happy beyond words.

I also wanted to share with you these pictures of you and me from when you were a child that I found at your grandparents’ house. I hadn’t ever seen them before finding them here and I thought you may enjoy them. They’re from a time when you were happy, before… well, you understand.

I will reach out to you when I am ready, and I hope when I do, you’ll be ready too. I may never have known how to show it, but know that I truly mean it when I say how much I love you, my daughter.

Mom

I stare at the letter, rereading it over and over as tears leak from my eyes. Then I fold it back up, reaching into the envelope and pulling out the small printed pictures.

There are three separate pictures. The first one looks like it was from the day I was born, my mom lying in a hospital bed with me in her arms, a larger-than-life smile on her face. A smile that reminds me so much of my own.

The second looks like it’s from my first birthday. I’m sitting in a high chair with a large cake in front of me, a number one candle sticking out of it. My mom is crouched down next to me, laughing as I smush a handful of cake into her face.

She looks so young, so carefree, so happy. She looks like a person that I don’t remember or even recognize.

The third picture looks to be from Halloween a few years later, maybe when I was three or four years old. I’m dressed as Wonder Woman, smiling brightly at the camera as my mom holds my hand next to me.

Her smile looks dimmer here, more muted. It looks like she’s trying to be in the moment, but she’s actually somewhere else entirely. I wonder if that’s when my father’s manipulation started.

I fold up the letter, put it and the pictures back in the envelope, wiping the tears from my eyes as I place it back in my purse.

I feel a little lighter, knowing she’s getting the help she needs. Knowing that there may come a time that we can rebuild our relationship and find the happiness that was taken away from us gives me hope.

I know that she’ll reach out to me when she’s ready, and I know that there’s a future for us.

Until then, I’ll focus on the now.

I look up as I hear the door to the restaurant opening and find Asher.

“Hey, baby.” He smiles brightly as he walks inside.

He hasn’t been here before because I refused to let him come until it was officially mine. I haven’t even shown him the pictures yet, wanting the entire thing to be a total surprise.

He pauses as he walks in the door, looking around with a smile on his face.

“So, what do you think?” I ask, hoping he’ll love it as much as I do.

“It’s perfect,” he says, walking up to me and lifting me off the counter and into his arms. “Just like the owner.” He kisses me and for a minute, I let myself get lost in him the way that I always do.

I pull away, looking around the space and then back to the man I love.

Perfect, he said. And it really is.

CHAPTERTHIRTY-SEVEN

Demi

“Come on, I want to show you around.” I jump off the bar top and grab his hand, dragging him around every corner of the space with me.

I show him everywhere, upstairs, downstairs, the kitchen, the bathrooms, where the trash goes behind the building. I explain what I want to do with it all, what I’ll put where, and how I see it all coming together.

He follows me, listening to my every word and giving input where I need it. But most of all, he just tells me how much he loves it. How proud of me he is.

“I love seeing you this happy,” he says as we walk back over to stand by the bar. He leans down, kissing me slowly and I cling to him.

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