Chapter 10 - Dawn Over Lake Michigan
One year after the night I found Elise dancing in the nursery, the sun rose over Lake Michigan in a brilliant explosion of gold and crimson.
The mansion was no longer a mausoleum. It was filled with the sound of pounding little feet, infectious giggles, and the rich, comforting scent of pancakes and coffee drifting up from the kitchen.
Inside the master suite, the heavy curtains were wide open, letting the morning light pour across the hardwood floors.
I stood by the window, adjusting the cuffs of my crisp white dress shirt, watching the reflection in the glass. Behind me, the large king-sized bed was messy, tangled in white sheets.
Elise sat up against the pillows, wearing one of my old dress shirts—just like Sarah used to do years ago—holding a steaming mug of coffee and laughing as two toddler girls—now walking, talking, unstoppable forces of nature—burst through our bedroom door and launched themselves onto the mattress.
"Daddy! Up! Up!" Maisie squealed, scrambling across the duvet to grab my leg, while Rosie giggled uncontrollably as Elise scooped her up into a tickle monster attack.
I turned around, walking over to the bed. I didn't wear a scowl, and I didn't carry the heavy, paralyzing weight of yesterday's grief.
I sat down on the edge of the mattress, letting Rosie climb onto my back while Elise leaned over, pressing a warm, lingering kiss against my lips.
"Happy anniversary, boss," Elise whispered against my mouth, a playful spark in her eyes.
"Anniversary of what?" I teased, wrapping my arms around her waist and pulling her close, while the twins shrieked with delight. "The night you wore rubber gloves and humiliated me in front of my daughters?"
"The night I saved your life," she corrected softly, her smile radiant and absolute.
May you like
I looked around the room—at the bright sunlight, at the warm, chaotic joy of our family, at the two little girls who had finally found their mother’s warmth again in the heart of the woman who stayed. The loaded Beretta in the bedside drawer was gone, replaced by a framed family photograph of the four of us laughing in the courtyard garden.
The dark winter of my life was finally over. The house was full of music, the doors were unlocked, and the dawn had never looked so bright.
