Page 92 of Once Upon A Second Chance

I just sit there and watch her, completely and utterly in awe.

When she turns back to me, raising an eyebrow like she’s daring me to say something, I push my chair back and stand.

Before she can react, I’m crowding her gently against the counter, cupping her jaw and kissing her, slow and deep and grateful.

"You’re amazing," I murmur againsther lips.

She shrugs, like it’s nothing, but her cheeks go a little pink. "Got to fight fire with fire."

I kiss her again, smiling against her mouth because for the first time in a long time, I know—weknow—we’re not fighting this alone anymore.

I meet my parents at the inn again after lunch, expecting more tight smiles and quiet judgment. I’m already preparing to grit my teeth through another polite ambush when my mother surprises me.

She stands as I approach, smoothing her skirt with a nervous flick of her hand, and says, “Richard, we owe you an apology.”

I blink.

My father clears his throat, glancing at her before nodding stiffly. “We didn’t mean to dismiss your choices. Or... Penny.”

My mother looks almost pained as she adds, “We want to be part of your life. Both of you. If you’ll let us.”

For a second, I just stare at them, the words not fully sinking in. I had prepared myself for another war. I hadn’t prepared for peace.

“I appreciate that,” I say, cautiously. “Really. But it’s not just about me anymore. I’ll have to ask Penny if she’s willing to forgive all this and move forward.”

“Of course,” my mother says quickly, almost too quickly. “We’d love to have dinner. No pressure. Just... a fresh start.”

I nod, feeling something inside me loosen just a little. Maybe things can get better. Maybe there’s a version of this future where Penny doesn’t always have to brace herself for the polite daggers my parents used to throw.

Maybe they’re trying. God knows I am.

We make tentative plans for later in the week—nothing concrete, nothing Penny is committed to yet—and after a few more minutes of polite conversation, I make my way out of the inn, feeling lighter than I have in days.

That feeling doesn’t last long.

I’m halfway across the parking lot when I hear footsteps behind me, quick and deliberate.

I turn just as Rebecca—perfect makeup, perfect hair, and a carefully crafted look of devastation—rushes toward me.

“Richard,” she gasps, her voice trembling just enough to be convincing. “Please, can we talk?”

Every instinct I have tells me to keep walking. But something in her face—something sharp under the softness—makes me pause.

“We don’t have anything to talk about,” I say, keeping my voice even.

She steps closer anyway, hands wringing in front of her like some tragic heroine. “Please. I just... I miss you. I made a mistake. You don’t belong here, Richard. You belong with me. In New York. In the life we built together.”

It smells wrong. Too practiced. Too desperate without beingreal.

I shake my head. “There’s nothing left between us.”

“There could be,” she says quickly, eyes shining. “I’m willing to forgive you.”

I bark out a bitter laugh before I can stop myself. “You forgive me?Rebecca, youlied about me in court. You dragged my name through the mud. You tried to ruin my life because you couldn’t stand the idea of not controlling it anymore. That’s really rich, Rebecca.”

Something flickers across her face—something cold and calculating—but it’s gone in an instant, replaced by trembling lips and wide, wet eyes.

“You’re cruel,” she whispers. “You were always cruel underneath.”