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Nia folds her hands together. “Are you sure? The accusations you hurled at me—”
“Were terrible and unfair. And I know this world doesn’t often give second chances. So if you don’t feel like extending me one, I understand. But I have to ask.”
“You can’t just say and do those awful things, then sprinkle a few words of apology around like pixie dust, and poof. All the goodness and trust come back.” She shakes her head. “I don’t work like that.”
“I know. Harlow pointed out that words are easy. You deserve more. So…will you lift your arms, palms up for me?”
Quietly, she does, and it kills me to see she’s not wearing her wedding ring. “What are you doing?”
I lay three envelopes in her grip. “I’m putting everything in your hands, for you to decide. First, I’ve given you divorce papers. Technically, I know I’m supposed to hire someone to serve you, but I couldn’t do that without talking to you, apologizing, and explaining. Splitting for good isn’t what I want; I need you to know that. Just like I want you to know that I love you. You’re smart and sassy and sexy. You’re loyal and funny and wonderful. And you showed me who I am. But if you want to be free of me, I’ve granted you the means. In that document, you have full custody of our son or daughter, but I’m here if he or she ever wants to know me. I’m also giving you half of my assets, with the exception of Stratus.”
Her eyes tear up. “Evan—”
“Let me finish. In the second envelope is a document that transfers one hundred percent ownership of Stratus to you. I’ve already signed it. Once you do the same and have it notarized, the entire company is yours—to keep or sell as you see fit.”
Nia’s jaw drops. “It’s worth a billion dollars.”
I nod.
“You’ve spent your adult life building it.”
I nod again.
“You can’t give it away. That’s not logical.”
“It’s not.” I want to touch her so badly I can barely breathe. “But I don’t care. Nothing means anything to me without you.”
Tears well in her eyes, then fall down her cheeks. “Evan…”
Jesus, I’m going to lose it, too. My eyes sting, my throat constricts. I suck it up. I need to keep myself together—for her.
“The third envelope is a plane ticket from Seattle to Maui. If you can forgive me and you want to try again, I’ll be there. It leaves on Sunday. If I see you get off the plane, I’ll know you still love me, too. And that you want to ring in the New Year and our new future together. If not”—I swallow—“then I’ll probably never see you again. In either case, this is for you.” I thrust the package forward. “You asked me the evening you came to the penthouse to help me clean if the canvases under my bed were Becca’s.” I shake my head. “They were mine. I hadn’t been able to paint since her death. You not only made me function again, you taught me to feel. I want you to know how I see us, how I see our forever. In my head, this is the way we’ll always be.”
“Oh, my god.” She reaches for my offering, tears now streaming crystal paths down her face.
I work up the courage to wrap my fingers around hers. “Wait to open it until after I’m gone. Please. Then look at everything I’ve left you. I hope to see you on New Year’s Eve because you’re my everything. But if I don’t…” I lean in and kiss her softly one last time, our lips clinging, our breaths mingling. It kills me to pull away, knowing I may never be this close to her again. “Then I understand. And I’ll always love you.”
Chapter Twenty
Nia
* * *
I blink at the door Evan closed between us, then stare at the envelopes in my hand.
What has he done? I can’t breathe. My heart hurts. I tremble.
But I have to know what he’s saying to me.
Swallowing, I dig into the envelope on top. It’s the plane ticket he mentioned. I set it on the hall table beside me, then reach for the next set of documents. The papers giving me total ownership and control of Stratus. I scan them.
Oh, god.
This is surreal. This is crazy.
“Evan…why?”
But I know why. He’s showing me he trusts me. In the strongest way possible, he’s telling me he doesn’t believe I’ll sell him out to my biological father. And he’s doing it without uttering a word.
