Page 110 of Best Kept Vows

Sebastian

It had been a few months since my father’s death, and the heavy cloak of grief had slowly transformed into a more bearable presence that no longer devoured my every thought, but instead sculpted who I was becoming.

Life itself now radiated a subtle, newfound brightness.

It felt different.

It felt better.

The once formidable Boone name no longer held its intimidating influence.

Boone Metals had crumbled into bankruptcy exactly as I had foreseen, and surprisingly, the expected crushing guilt never took root.

Bryce had driven the company straight into ruin, leaving my mother—clinging to her idealized dreams offamily legacy—to confront the consequences of having supported the wrong man. There was no bitterness in my heart, nosurge of revenge. Instead, a liberating sense of freedom had unfurled within me.

I had enrolled in psychology classes at the local community college—something I wouldn’t have even considered a year ago. The experience was humbling, invigorating, and, at times, frustrating. But with every lecture, and every discussion, my conviction of becoming a therapist deepened.

“So, are you the oldest student in your classes?” Tristan teased.

He was visiting from New York for spring break, and we were all somehow managing to fit into the apartment, for which we’d happily signed a one-year lease.

“Actually, Gillian is two years older than me,” I said.

The rich aromas of garlic and rosemary danced through the apartment as Lia carefully placed a steaming dish of roasted chicken on our dining table.

Every Saturday, the four of us—Lia, me, Tristan, and Ada—gathered together to share stories, laughter, and dreams. When we were lucky, our conversations unfolded over a hearty meal; other times, they resonated through the telephone when the children couldn’t join us in person. Yet, no matter the medium, the bond was uniquely ours.

As Tristan poured wine into each glass, he turned to me with an impish smirk. “So, you geriatrics stick together?”

I laughed. “Yeah, we do.”

Ada’s face lit up with a bright grin. “I think it’s cool. My friends all say it’s awesome that my dad is in college—but then my mama was also in college…I have the coolest parents.”

“You bet,” I agreed.

Ada popped a perfectly roasted potato into her mouth. “Mama says you’re obsessed with your classes.”

I glanced at Lia, whose eyes crinkled with a smile.

“I wouldn’t say obsessed,” I muttered, slightly embarrassed.

Lia raised an amused eyebrow. “Says the man who spent three hours last night studying because he wants an A ineverytest.”

“Well, hell, I want to be a good student, you know,” I said, chagrined.

After dinner, we cleared the table together. Tristan and Ada filled the dishwasher while Lia and I finished the wine.

“Okay, for real,” Tristan mused, “Savannah’s kind of perfect. If I lived downtown like you guys, I wouldn’t complain.”

“You sure about that? I thought Savannah wassoboring compared to New York,” Ada quipped.

“Boring it may be, but it’s also affordable, and I’d rather be bored than share a Queens basement apartment with a roach named Clarence,” he muttered.

The apartment was loud, messy, and full of clashing voices—and I loved it. It was small compared to the house, and Tristan had to sleep on the couch, which he said he didn’t mind.

“Just no early morning cardio in the living room, you two. I don’t want PTSD.”

Lia tossed a cloth napkin at him, laughing. “Grow up.”