instead of black, no doubt one of her own creations from her Seraphine line. It suits her—and the small baby bump she has. Blaise is beside her, his hand at her elbow in a protective manner.
Blaise.
My brother.
I didn’t know what I’d feel when I saw him again, but suddenly there’s no question. A million buried emotions are rising up out of me, threatening to explode.
Before I can control myself, I’m striding across the room toward him and wrapping my arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. Tears spill from my eyes as I hold on.
“I’m so sorry, brother,” I say into his shoulder, wishing I would stop crying, wishing I could pull it together, but I know that it’s too late. I’ve kept all this inside for too long, and it’s like a dam being lifted. No more hiding, no more pretending, no more masks. “I am so sorry.”
Blaise is completely still, tense, and it takes him a moment to hug me back.
“It’s okay,” he says, and I hear the strain in his voice too. “It’s over now. It’s all over.”
“I’ve been the worst brother,” I go on. “I never . . . I didn’t realize what that meant. What I lost. I didn’t realize who I was until it was almost too late. I hope it’s not too late for us. I hope we can start again. This time without his shadow over us. This time without any fear.”
Blaise pulls back and holds my face in his hands before kissing me on the forehead in a gesture of brotherly love I’ve never felt before.
It seems to set everything right in my world.
Our father is gone.
Now we are free.
He then pats me on the back. “I’m proud of you. You did what I never had the guts to do.”
“It helps not having a conscience,” I say, simultaneously giving him a wicked smile while I wipe away a tear.
“Ah, but you do have one. We’ve all seen it now. It’s too late for you, Pascal, you’re going to have to walk the line.”
“We’ll see,” I tell him, patting him on the shoulder right back.
Now that we’ve broken apart, I can see everyone else staring at us with either interest or shock. I know Olivier still thinks we’re cut from the same cloth. I suppose we are: Blaise just reached his own redemption before I did.
“I never thought I’d see the day,” Seraphine muses, eyeing us with her hand on her hip.
I give her a winning smile. “Seraphine,” I say, holding my arms out for her.
She rolls her eyes, shaking her head. “You and I are not on hugging terms.”
“Hear, hear, sister,” Sadie pipes up.
I ignore her. With a pleading look from Blaise, Seraphine sighs heavily and then trudges over to me. She puts her arms around me, holding me lightly.
“I still hate you,” Seraphine whispers in my ear. “But I do forgive you. Thank you for saying all that to Blaise. He’s missed you, if you believe it or not.”
She pulls back and gives me a little smile, and in that smile, I know she means it. Maybe not even the hate part, but the forgiveness part.
Then she breaks away and goes back to Blaise’s side, holding his hand and kissing him on the cheek. “I threatened him,” she tells him, throwing a quick glance at me. “I don’t trust him for beans.”
I can’t help but grin in return.
It’s obvious now that Renaud, Olivier, Sadie, Blaise, and Seraphine all arrived at the funeral together, because they’re moving along like the well-oiled wheels of a train, circling Gabrielle with interest.
“Blaise, Seraphine,” I say, going over to Gabrielle and putting my arm around her waist. “This is Gabrielle. I hope you don’t hold the fact that she’s with me against her.”
“Not at all,” Blaise says. “Seems like you’re the one who finally turned my brother around.”
“I think maybe he’s the one who turned me around,” she says, shooting me a smile that makes my heart swell.
There’s a loud knock at the door, and we all exchange looks, wondering who we’re missing here.
But it’s just the funeral director, poking in his head.
“The funeral is starting,” the director says, giving us all a quick but solemn smile before he disappears.
We start heading for the door.
“All right,” Seraphine says, clapping her hands together. “Let’s go put this son of a bitch in the ground.”
We all stop in our tracks, staring at her with nervous laughter on our lips.