The Next Morning
I woke to sunlight streaming through the window—real sunlight, not the artificial brightness of a courtroom. For the first time in over a week, I didn't wake with dread crushing my chest.
I was free.
Actually, truly free.
"You're smiling," Dante said, his voice rough with sleep.
"I'm allowed to smile now. I'm not going to prison."
"You were always allowed to smile. You just forgot how." He pulled me closer. "But I like seeing it. Reminds me of the first time I saw you laugh. In the coffee shop with Bianca, before everything went to hell."
"That feels like a lifetime ago."
"It was a lifetime ago. We're different people now."
"Better or worse?"
He considered that. "Stronger. More scarred. But still here. That counts for something."
A knock interrupted us. Margaret's voice came through the door. "Breakfast in ten minutes. And Sarah called—the media's requesting interviews. Apparently, you two are the biggest story in the country right now."
