A whole multitude of emotions ran through me all at once.

First there was shock. Like, I can’t believe I just heard that.

There was anger, too. Like How DARE you?! You humiliated me! You almost made me lose the one man I’ve ever loved! And you think ‘I’m sorry’ is enough?

But more than anything, there was a rush of sadness and joy at the same time.

I think it was forgiveness. Or at least the beginning of it.

Because I knew how hard it was for this cold, stubborn man to come here and say it. He had probably never said ‘I’m sorry’ before in his entire life. Certainly never to his son.

But he had said it to me.

I remembered how he had stood in front of a dark window while Connor lay wounded in a hospital bed, and poured out his heart to me.

Has he ever talked to you about his and my relationship? It’s been strained for years. Many years. It’s both our fault, yes… but in a moment like tonight, I can’t help but feeling… I should have been the bigger man. I should have stopped this stupid, pointless bickering long ago…

When he came and got me in Mexico, I couldn’t show him… because of our history… but I wanted to hug him. I wanted to thank him, because I knew… I knew he’d done something Vincent would have never done. I knew he had risked his life to save mine. But, being a foolish and cantankerous old man, I didn’t tell him that. I was, I suppose, something of an ass about the whole thing.

But I swore that one day, I would make it up to him… that when he needed it most, I would be there for him. I would find some way to show him how much it meant to me, that he had risked so much for me.

I wondered if that day might have come.

“Thank you,” I said quietly.

Mr. Templeton looked deep into my eyes, then nodded with gratitude.

Connor stared at me. “‘Thank you?’ ‘Thank you?!’ For WHAT?! He tried to ruin you – he tried to ruin both of us!”

“That was a mistake,” his father said.

“A mistake?! A MISTAKE?! That was no fucking ‘mistake,’” Connor raged. “That was deliberate. It was one of the coldest, most calculated acts of character assassination I’ve ever seen. Machiavelli would have loved the hell out of it.”

The elder Templeton closed his eyes. “I was wrong to do it.”

“Oh – OH! You’re so magnanimous to admit it! You stick the knife in and break it off, and now, after I almost died, you’re like, ‘Whoops, shouldn’t have done that’? God damn you. Go fuck yourself.”

“Connor,” I said, and put my hand on his sleeve.

“I can’t believe you’re falling for this bullshit,” Connor hissed. “He’s playing you. This is an angle, just like what Miranda’s doing. It just happens to be a more insidious, fucked-up line of attack, is all.”

“It’s the truth,” Mr. Templeton said.

“No – you don’t get to apologize,” Connor said, jabbing his finger savagely at his father. “You don’t get to say ‘I’m sorry’ after all you’ve done.”

“Connor,” I said, louder.

The old man regarded his son wearily. “This was obviously a mistake.”

“What, a ‘mistake’ like you trying to shame and degrade my fiancée in front of the world? A ‘mistake’ like the time you tried to destroy me? A ‘mistake’ like – ”

“CONNOR!” I yelled.

Both father and son looked at me in shock.

“Go on,” I said, and jerked my head back towards the ballroom. “Let me talk to him.”

Connor looked at me in bewilderment. “I can’t believe you’re buying this.”

“Just… let me talk to him. Alone, please.”

“I’ve been dealing with his lies for decades, Lily. I know what kind of a person he is. This whole ‘I’m sorry’ bullshit is just a smokescreen for whatever plan he’s cooked up with Miranda – ”

“Connor,” I said, insisting.

Connor looked at me for a second, then shook his head. “Unbelievable,” he said as he walked back into the ballroom. “Un-fucking-believable.”

Both Mr. Templeton and I watched him go.

When we finally looked at each other, I had to look at the floor, I was so nervous.

He spoke first. “I really meant it when I said I was sorry for what we did to you.”

“I know. But I can’t really say ‘I forgive you,’ because I don’t.”

“Nor would I ever expect you to.”

“But I appreciate the gesture. I appreciate you coming here tonight.”

He nodded, and we lapsed into an uncomfortable silence for a few seconds.

Then he said, “May I ask you a question?”

“…sure. I guess.”

“Why do you believe me?”

I didn’t answer him for a moment. When I did, I said simply, “Because I remember what you told me in the hospital.”

He stared into the distance. “That was a terrible night.”

“It was.”

He looked back at me. “I’m glad that even though my son will never believe those things I said… someone will.”

I smiled at him sadly.

Mr. Templeton smiled back, equally as sad.

“I should go,” he said, and turned away.

“Come have dinner with us tomorrow,” I said, entirely on impulse.

He turned back in surprise. I have to admit, I was surprised, too.

“What?”

“Come have dinner with us tomorrow.”

“…why?”

“I think all this bad blood has gone on long enough, don’t you?”

He looked into the ballroom at his son, who was talking angrily with Sebastian. “He’ll never agree to it.”

“Let me talk to him. Although… maybe just you should come.”

Mr. Templeton gave a mirthless laugh. “There’s a reason I came here alone.”

“Your wife wouldn’t…?”

He shook his head ‘no.’

“Alright, then. Come tomorrow night for dinner. 7PM.”

He looked hesitant.

“Will you come?” I asked, almost pleading with him.

After a slight hesitation, he nodded ‘yes.’

“Thank you,” he said.

“Don’t thank me yet,” I said, then turned and went back into the ballroom to begin one of the most epic campaigns of persuasion that has ever been waged.