Chapter 9
The move happened faster than I thought possible.
Sebastian was true to his word.
He sold the penthouse.
Stepped down as CEO of Carter Industries.
Turned the company over to a board of directors with strict instructions to use 50% of all profits for children's charities—specifically organizations that helped single parents and families in crisis.
It was his way of making amends.
For everything his family had done.
For everything he had failed to do.
We bought a beautiful four-bedroom house in Evanston.
Tree-lined street.
Big front porch.
A backyard big enough for a swing set and a garden and—yes—a ball pit if the kids still wanted one.
The neighbors did bring cookies.
Chocolate chip.
From Mrs. Henderson next door.
She was seventy-two, had three cats, and told me within five minutes that she had already "run off two men with cameras" who had tried to park at the end of the street.
"I don't hold with that nonsense," she said, wiping flour from her hands.
"You're a nice girl with three nice children and a husband who looks at you like you hung the moon. Anyone who bothers you answers to me."
I knew immediately we were home.
---
The first six months were... an adjustment.
Sebastian really did get a job teaching business at Northwestern.
He loved it.
Said it was the most rewarding work he had ever done.
His students adored him.
And for the first time in his life...
He came home every day at five o'clock.
No late meetings.
No business trips.
No calls at two in the morning.
Just him.
Home.
With us.
He learned to cook.
Badly at first.
But he got better.
He learned to do laundry without turning all the whites pink.
He learned to braid Sophie's hair for school.
(It was lopsided. She loved it anyway.)
He learned that bedtime wasn't just reading one story.
It was three stories.
And one song.
And three glasses of water.
And checking the closet for monsters.
And checking under the bed.
And then checking the closet again because "maybe they moved."
He never complained.
Not once.
Even when he was exhausted.
Even when he had papers to grade.
Even when Ethan threw up on him at two in the morning.
He was just... there.
Every single day.
The children healed.
Slowly.
The nightmares stopped.
Ethan started going to the park alone again.
Sophie stopped following me into the bathroom.
Lucas stayed dry through the night.
And in September...
They started kindergarten.
At the local public school.
Just like all the other kids.
No private tutors.
No security.
Just three five-year-olds with brand-new backpacks and too-big shoes.
I cried harder than they did.
Sebastian had to carry me back to the car.
---
Little Harvest Kitchen came back too.
Slowly.
One contract at a time.
After the truth came out...
People were angry on my behalf.
Schools that had dropped me called back.
Apologized.
Asked if I would consider them again.
New clients reached out.
Said they admired what I had built.
What I had survived.
Within a year...
I was bigger than I had ever been.
I hired six more employees.
Opened a second commercial kitchen.
Started a scholarship program for single parents who wanted to start their own businesses.
I called it the "Second Chance Fund."
Because everyone deserves one.
I should know.
---
The proposal happened on our first anniversary.
Not our wedding anniversary.
The anniversary of the day we walked out of the courthouse as a family.
Sebastian made dinner.
(Spaghetti. It was actually good that time.)
The kids were already asleep.
We were sitting on the back porch swing.
Watching fireflies.
Drinking cheap wine from plastic glasses.
And then...
He got down on one knee.
Right there on the weathered wooden deck.
And he pulled out a ring.
Not the giant rock he had given Olivia.
Not something that cost more than my first car.
This was different.
A simple silver band.
With three small diamonds.
One for each of the children.
And inside...
Engraved.
Five years too late. But right on time.
"Hannah Marks," he said.
His voice shaking just a little.
"I have asked you for a lot of things over the years. Forgiveness. Patience. Another chance. But this... this is the most important thing I will ever ask. Will you marry me? Again? Properly this time. No mothers. No prenup negotiations. No lies. Just me. And you. And three very loud children who think I can do no wrong. Will you be my wife? Forever?"
I didn't say yes.
I said, "What took you so long?"
And then I cried.
And kissed him.
And somewhere in the house...
A floorboard creaked.
And we looked up to see three small faces pressed against the kitchen window.
Cheering.
Clapping.
Holding up homemade signs that said KISS HER DADDY and WE KNEW IT.
Sebastian laughed through his tears.
"I guess they approve."
"I guess they do," I said.
And that night...
May you like
For the first time in my life...
I felt completely, perfectly, undeniably happy.
