Chapter 8 - Claire's Gift
Grace’s hands trembled as she pulled the folded piece of stationery from the yellowed envelope.
The paper smelled faintly of dried lavender and old paper. The ink was dark blue, written in a graceful, flowing script that belonged to a woman Grace had only ever seen in framed photographs around the estate.
Grace began to read the letter aloud, her voice soft and trembling in the quiet guesthouse room:
"My dearest Ethan,
If you are reading this letter, it means I am no longer holding your hand. It means our sweet boy is growing up without his mother's arms around him. The thought of leaving both of you breaks my heart into a thousand pieces, but I know how strong you are, my love.
I know you, Ethan. I know that when I am gone, you will shut down. You will build walls of ice around your heart to protect yourself from ever feeling this kind of pain again. You will throw yourself into work, into money, into duty. You will try to be both father and mother to Noah, and you will carry the weight of the world on your shoulders.
Please don't do that.
Noah needs a happy father, not a saint who lives in a tomb of memory. And you deserve to be loved again, Ethan. You deserve laughter in your kitchen. You deserve a home filled with warmth, not just a house filled with my absence.
If another woman ever comes into your life—if someone loves our boy enough to make him feel safe, to teach him to laugh, to wipe his tears when the world feels scary—don't fight it out of loyalty to me. Don't punish yourself or her because I had to leave first.
Give her my love. Give her my blessing. And tell her that she has my eternal gratitude for taking care of the two men who owned my entire soul.
Forever yours, Claire."
Grace finished reading the last line.
The room was completely silent except for the soft sound of her weeping. Tears dripped continuously from her chin, soaking into the cotton fabric of her dress.
Ethan stood before her, tears glistening in his own eyes, his chest rising and falling slowly.
"She knew," Ethan whispered, stepping forward and taking the letter gently from Grace’s trembling hands, setting it on the table. "Claire knew me better than I knew myself. She knew I would try to replace her with a sensible, cold transaction like Vanessa because I was terrified of loving someone again."
He wrapped his arms around Grace’s waist, pulling her flush against his body.
"I am done being terrified, Grace," Ethan said, resting his forehead against hers. "I don't want a socialite. I don't want a power marriage. I want the woman who dances barefoot in my kitchen. I want the woman who stands up to bullies to protect my allergies. I want the woman my son calls Mommy."
Grace looked up into his eyes, her heart swelling with a love so massive, so overwhelming, that it washed away every insecurity, every fear, and every lingering doubt she had ever carried.
"Ethan..." she breathed, her hands rising to rest against his strong chest. "I've loved you for two years. I tried so hard to hide it. I tried so hard to be professional..."
"Don't be professional," Ethan murmured, his eyes dropping to her lips. "Never be professional with me again."
He leaned down and kissed her.
It was not a gentle, hesitant kiss. It was deep, fierce, and desperate—a culmination of three years of unspoken longing, shared grief, and unspoken devotion bursting through the dam that had kept them apart.
Grace let out a soft sigh against his mouth, her arms wrapping tightly around his neck, pulling him closer, burying her fingers in his thick dark hair.
When Ethan finally pulled back, both of them were breathless, their eyes locked together in a silent covenant that needed no further words.
"Stay," Ethan whispered against her lips. "Move your things into the main house today. Not as a nanny. As my partner."
Grace smiled through her tears, her hands framing his face. "On one condition."
Ethan raised an eyebrow, a tender smile touching his lips. "Name it."
May you like
"I get to keep my herb garden," she said softly.
Ethan laughed, a bright, triumphant sound that echoed out through the open window into the sunny garden, bringing life and warmth to every corner of the estate.
