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“We have never once been scared of you. Not. Fucking. Once.” She smiles as she brushes a tear from her eye with the back of her hand. “But I've been scared for you since the day you were born. That's what being a parent is,” she chokes with a brittle laugh. “But because of who you are, we were even more scared for you. Because we knew the world would be harder for you, and more dangerous. And we knew we wouldn't always be there to stand between it and you.”

I swallow heavily, my eyes stinging as they meet hers.

"So maybe scared for you, because that's a parent's lot. But never of you. We both love you more than anything else in the world,” she whispers fiercely. "And you deserve to be loved. Utterly, completely, and without compromise.”

Dad clears his throat. “Even,” he mutters, “if it’s by this Dame fucker.”

I choke a laugh into his chest as I turn and hug him tightly. Mom closes in behind me and hugs us both, and I just let myself drown in their love.

These are the parents I got.

I mean, holy shit, did I luck out.

39

BELLA

Lake water laps gently against the dock pilings beneath our feet.

Quiet. Peaceful. Serene.

It's a dramatic contrast to the nine-million-dollar lake house twenty yards away, aggressively immolating itself with the roar of a thousand suns.

Fire licks out of every blown-out window. Thick black smoke and swarms of angry red sparks explode from the roof as a pillar of flame punches through the shingles.

I wince as one of the chimneys crumbles with a shuddering groan of masonary and wood, taking half the second floor with it as it collapses through the roof.

It's honestly kind of beautiful.

Damiano and I are standing side by side at the end of the dock, watching the roaring flames snarl up into the starry night. Heat rolls over our faces in waves as the dancing firelight is mirrored in the quiet black water of the lake behind us.

“Soooo,” I start, glancing at him nervously. “I feel like I should say something.”

“You really shouldn’t.”

“No-no-no.” I shake my head. “I’m going to be the bigger person here.” I steeple my fingers in front of my chest and dramatically clear my throat. “I am sorry that the fire happened.”

Damiano exhales heavily as he turns to face me.

“And I’m sorry for…you know…” I clear my throat again. “Whatever itty-bitty part I might have played in it starting?”

He just gives me a tired look.

“Like, oh, say, the guillotine?” he mutters through clenched teeth.

“Hey, the guillotine was perfect,” I grin. “And you did say I could bring it. Sooo…” I smile impishly as I sidle a little closer to him. “Thank you for that.”

“For what it's worth, I’m well into the regret phase of that decision.”

A sudden and loud BOOM rips our gazes forward to see that the rented van we drove here has progressed from “on fire” to “exploded into smithereens of metal and glass.”

If he wasn’t pissed before…

“You did say we could bring the guillotine,” I repeat under my breath.

“Okay, but the candles? The candles, Bella?”

“I am not sorry about the candles. The candles were the whole vibe, and you can't go around guillotining motherfuckers without a vibe. Ask France.”