A few days after I was released from the hospital, I wandered into Aiden's office after dinner. He sat behind his desk, the newspaper spread before him, an empty glass of whiskey in his right hand. His eyes rose to meet mine, and there was a pained expression on his face.

We hadn't had a real conversation since the day after Gage and Sophie's wedding when I'd discovered Riley's lies, and Aiden's betrayal, and had left the house with Jacob.

He'd been avoiding me. And maybe I'd been avoiding him, too. I'd forgiven Riley, but I hadn't let Aiden off the hook. Not yet. It was time. That didn't mean I was going to make it easy for him.

My throat was still sore from the smoke. I'd been cleared to talk, but only if I kept it short. I dropped into one of the big leather chairs in front of Aiden's desk, raised one eyebrow, and said, “Well?"

Fortunately for my sore throat, Aiden didn't need any more prompting than a single word. Unfortunately, he was terrible at apologies.

"You know that I'm sorry," he began.

I shook my head and stared at him. He stared back.

Finally, I said, “It wouldn't hurt to say it."

At the gravelly sound of my voice, Aiden winced. "Hell, don't talk. You sound terrible." I narrowed my eyes and crossed my arms over my chest. "Okay, Annalise, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I hired Sinclair Security to spy on you. I'm sorry I was paranoid and overprotective. I'm sorry I lied to you and didn't tell you that your boyfriend was working for me." His voice softened, and his eyes were sad as he finished, "I'm sorry I played a part in keeping you from Riley. If I could do everything over again, there are so many things I would change, but trying to push you two apart is the biggest. I—"

I waved my hand in the air to cut him off. I'd wanted an apology. I didn't need him to put on a hair shirt and grovel.

"I'm good, Aid. I love you, too.”

My older brother’s voice sounded from behind me. "That's it? You're not going to make him beg?" Gage dropped into the chair beside me and propped his ankle on his knee. To Aiden, he said, “After what you put me through when I came home, that's all you're going to give Annalise?"

Aiden shifted in his seat uncomfortably. He still felt guilty over the way he’d treated Gage, and Gage had no problem poking at him over it.

"Leave him alone," I said to my brother. "You know he's got that overdeveloped sense of responsibility. He probably lays in bed at night and tortures himself over all the things he thinks he's done wrong."

Aiden rose and carried his tumbler to the decanter of whiskey in the corner of the room. From the stiff set of his shoulders, I knew I'd struck home.

"Anyway," I went on, "I thought of the perfect way he can pay me back."

"Really?" Gage said, a mischievous light in his eyes. "What are you going to ask him for? A boat? A car? Make it a Bentley. I can see you driving a Bentley."

The laugh burst from my raw throat, and I slapped my hand over my mouth to hold it in. Shaking my head, I said, "I can buy my own Bentley, thank you very much. I haven't spent a penny of my own money in eleven years. Aiden's been busy making my trust fund grow while I was working under the table, scrubbing toilets and slinging coffee."

"Good point," Gage said. He tilted his head to the side and studied Aiden. "Then what are you going to ask him for?"

"I want him to let me fix him up," I said with a smile.

Both Aiden and Gage’s eyes widened in horror. Aiden was the first to speak.

"No fucking way, Lise. I get that you're in love, everyone's in love, and you think every single person should be paired up. I get it. I'm happy for you. Thrilled. I'll throw you the biggest wedding Atlanta's ever seen if that's what you want, but stay the hell out of my personal life."

"I want you to be happy, Aiden," I said. "And you have terrible taste in women."

"She's got you there," Gage said. "You always go for the icicles. So proper, and so chilly."

"Butt out," Aiden muttered.

"He's been having a lot of late meetings lately," Gage commented to me. "I think there's something going on at the office."

Aiden gritted his teeth, his words tight when he said, “I told you to stay out of it, Gage.”

Ignoring Aiden, Gage said, "It involves a blond with purple eyes, but that's all I can get out of him."

"Periwinkle," Aiden murmured. "Not purple, periwinkle." Then, realizing what he'd given away, he scowled. "And there's nothing going on with her. Just business."

I leaned forward, intrigued. "Really? What business?"

"None of yours," Aiden said, in that tone he used when he wanted people to do his bidding.

Gage gave Aiden a long, measuring look before turning to me and saying, "I'll keep you posted. But, I didn't stop in to needle Aiden. I wanted to talk to you about something. Both of you."

"Is everything okay?" I asked.

"Everything's great," Gage said. "I wanted to talk to you about the house. We can't leave it the way it is. The damage from the fire wasn't as bad as it could have been, but with the roof half burned away, we had to get repairs started as soon as possible, or a good rain would do worse than the fire. Charlie sent over a crew to put temporary patches on the roof, and we've got clean up scheduled to deal with the mess from the water and the smoke."

"I didn't think about that," I admitted. "But it's not that bad? My room must have been destroyed."

"Pretty much," Gage agreed. “The rest is mostly smoke and water damage. We’re still waiting on the insurance adjuster’s report.”

He and Aiden exchanged a long, heavy look. They were keeping the official business from me. I knew the police had judged William’s death an accident, as well as the fire, but that was it. There had been a few reporters at the gates when Riley brought me home, but nothing like what I’d expected. From what I’d been able to glean from eavesdropping, the police weren’t interested in anything a dead man had said about crimes long buried in the past.

I was the only witness to William’s confession, Marissa Archer was locked in a sanitarium, and William was dead. As far as the powers that be were concerned, case closed.

I would have thought that would bother me, but strangely, it didn’t. Demanding that William be blamed for Uncle Hugh and Aunt Olivia’s murders, trying to pin my parent’s deaths on Marissa, would have created a media frenzy none of us wanted to deal with. We knew what had happened. Those responsible were paying for their crimes, William with his life. That was enough.

Gage went on, “Regardless of what the insurance company says, we need to decide what we're going to do with the house.”

"You and Sophie?" I asked.

Gage shared a look with Aiden and then shook his head. "We prefer to stay here. Sophie doesn't want to leave Amelia, and there's plenty of room. Vance and Maggie aren't going anywhere. Maggie wouldn't leave her grandmother's house voluntarily, and Vance would never ask her to."

"Tate?" I asked, my heart suddenly racing.

"He—we—think you and Riley should take it. If you want it. After everything that happened, we'd understand if you didn't."

I could see his point. Our parents had died in that house. But then, Uncle Hugh and Aunt Olivia had died in Winters House, and none of us had abandoned it.

Everything that had happened with William in my bedroom had been a nightmare, but my bedroom was destroyed. I'd never have to see it again as it had been. When the clean-up was done, it would be like a brand new room, all the ugly memories purified by the fire.

Riley and I could bring the house back to life. As I thought about it, my heart swelled. It was time to move forward. Time to live again. And part of that was bringing my parent’s memory into the present.

"I'll have to talk to Riley," I said. "He's got a place, and we haven't really talked about where we're going to live."

Gage stood and clapped a hand on my shoulder, squeezing once. "No rush. Charlie's ready to jump in and rebuild what was damaged, whenever we figure out what to do with it. But while you're talking to Riley about the future, don't mention Aiden's offer for the biggest wedding in Atlanta. Jacob and Abigail's will be enough of a circus. Don't even think about eloping, but I can say from experience, a small wedding is perfect.”

Riley and I hadn't done much talking since I'd been released from the hospital. Every time I tried to string more than a few words together, he scowled and handed me another mug of herbal tea with honey.

That was okay. My throat did hurt, and I wasn't going to turn down a little pampering. That, and I didn't have much to say. William Davis was dead. We were all reeling at the knowledge that a man we’d considered as good as a second father had torn our family apart.

It was so bizarre, so hard to absorb, that we'd all been a little quiet. The grief at learning of William’s betrayal mixed with the relief of finally knowing what had really happened to our family had left us quietly reeling.

None of us had ever believed the story of two identical murder/suicides, but without the truth, the specter of that story hung over us. Haunted us. Now we were free to move forward. To be happy.

I was more than happy; I was over the moon. I was with Riley, we'd untangled the lies and fears between us, and now we could just be. I was perfectly content to sit beside him, propped up against the headboard in bed, or on the couch in the family room, and watch TV, or work on my laptop while he was on his, all the time sneaking sidelong glances and drooling over how hot he was in his reading glasses.

I didn't need long, heartfelt conversations. I just wanted to be with him and do normal, everyday stuff. That was my idea of heaven, and I’d landed smack in the middle of it.

I gave myself a day or two to mull over the issue of the house, before I brought it up to Riley.

First, because I wanted to make sure I really was okay with living there. That scene with William was over, but it had been horrifying while it lasted. And while I'd had a very happy childhood in that house, my parents had died right there in my father's office.

Could I walk into that room every day and remember the good times rather than the bad? I didn't want to make a commitment, get Charlie started on remodeling or encourage Riley to sell his place unless I was sure.

And second, I didn't want to try to have such an important conversation with Riley scowling at me for straining my throat. So I behaved myself, sucked on lozenges and drank buckets of honeyed tea while I thought about the house and enjoyed being around my family, knowing I wouldn't be chased off by an unexpected delivery.

The simple freedom in knowing that I could stay, or go, but I could make my own choices out of desire rather than fear—that was bliss. I was in no rush to worry about the rest of my life when the present was better than my wildest dreams.

When I finally did bring up the house to Riley he only smiled and said, “It's a great house. If you’re okay with it, I think it would be the perfect place to raise a family."

"What about your place?" I'd asked, not wanting him to feel obligated.

I'd only been to Riley's condo once, but it was centrally located in midtown, not far from the Sinclair Security building. Modern and open, with plenty of space, it was the opposite of my parent’s homey craftsman style house in the woods. It also had the benefit of privacy.

The house in the woods was secluded, but it was a quarter-mile from Winters House. Living in the Winters estate would put me close to my family, but Riley might want a little more space from the rest of the clan.

When I brought up my concerns, Riley just shook his head. "I can handle your family," he said. "And you've been away from them for long enough. Anyway, my condo was an investment. I'm not attached. Charlie's got her broker's license. She can sell it, and we'll stay at Winters House until our house is ready to move into."

"Really?" I'd asked, looking up at him, drinking in the love in his eyes and the affectionate smile turning up the corners of his lips. He hadn't shaved in a while, and his scruff had turned into a beard. I'd never been into facial hair on guys, but Riley's was soft to the touch and gave him a roguish air that made my knees weak. I loved the way it felt under my fingertips and against my skin when we kissed.

"Really," he said, bending down to press his lips to mine.

Our house. That's what we started calling it, and just referring to it as ours, rather than my parent’s, birthed a sense of ownership, of new beginnings. We decided against any major remodeling, other than updating the appliances, and Charlie set her crew to repairing the fire and water damage.

We never really had a formal conversation about the wedding. Despite Aiden's offer, I had no interest in a big wedding. I'd loved Gage and Sophie's wedding. Just friends and family at home.

Riley had added only one stipulation. He wanted to be married in the great room of our house in the woods after the renovations were complete. That had sounded like a dream to me. All we needed was for Charlie to tell us the date the house would be done and we'd be good to go.

Well, that and a dress. I'd dragged the girls, alternately Charlie, Sophie, Maggie, Abigail, and even Josephine and Emily to almost every shop in town, but nothing was quite right. Charlie finally gave us a date only a few weeks away, and if I didn't find something, I'd be getting married in jeans and flip-flops.

I was starting to worry I’d never find a dress when Mrs. W stopped me after our fifth unsuccessful dress excursion and said, “If you have a few minutes, I'd like to show you something upstairs."

"Sure," I said, following her all the way up to the attic.

I hadn't been in the attics in years. They sprawled above the second floor, almost a full level except for the slanted ceilings. Room after room of storage.

Mrs. W kept them ruthlessly organized, or so it appeared, but as she led me past stacks of plastic storage containers she explained, "I didn't want to say anything until I found it. I knew it was here, but everything got rearranged a few years ago, and somehow, I misplaced it. I didn't want to get your hopes up unless I was sure."

She led me around the corner and headed for a storage container that had been set to the side, the lid partially open. Leaning over, she reached inside and gathered something in her arms. I heard the rustle of fabric, and she stood, holding before her a wedding dress.

I recognized it instantly. I'd seen it in pictures, remembered sitting in my mother's lap, her arms around me as we looked at a photograph of her and my father on their wedding day. This was her dress, and it appeared to be in perfect condition.

I raised my hand to my mouth and took it in, the full skirt, strapless bodice made demure by a boatneck overlay of Brussels lace that extended to long sleeves. I had almost the same figure as my mother, and I knew just by looking that the dress would suit me as perfectly as it had suited her. But—

Reading my mind, Mrs. W said, "I already checked the hem, and there's more than enough to let it down. Try it on," she urged, holding it higher. I peeled off my T-shirt and jeans in a flash, not shy around Mrs. W. She'd been taking care of us since we were children and I had nothing she hadn't seen before.

She’d already opened the buttons going up the back, and dropped the dress over my head, settling the layers of white silk around my legs.

"I'm only going to button every few buttons,” she said. “If I do all of them we’ll be here for the rest of the day."

When she had me fastened into the dress, she stepped back and turned me around. Her eyes got wet as she looked at me in my mother's wedding gown, and she shook her head in awe.

"You look so beautiful. So much like her, but exactly like yourself." Glancing around the attic room her face fell in dismay, “There's no mirror up here. I didn't think. When is Riley due home?"

It was the middle of the day on a Wednesday, so not for a few hours. Everyone was out except for Sophie and Amelia. "Stay right there," Mrs. W ordered before she disappeared down the stairs at the other end of the attic. A moment later she was back, gathering up my discarded clothes and pulling a wisp of white lace from the storage container.

"Come down to Sophie and Gage's room."

I didn't have to lift the skirts much to walk. They would definitely need to be let down a few inches for the dress to truly fit, but I felt like a princess with yards of silk rustling around my legs and my arms covered in white lace almost to my fingertips.

Sophie and Aunt Amelia were waiting for us in the dressing room of Sophie and Gage’s suite. Sophie's eyes lit when she saw me, and she exclaimed, “Oh, you look just like Grace Kelly."

I barely heard her. I caught sight of myself in the full-length mirror and was transfixed. The dress was perfect, and Mrs. W had been exactly right. Wearing it, I looked like my mother, but also like myself. And with her dress, I could have her by my side on my wedding day.

Aunt Amelia, her voice shaking a little, said brusquely, “No, Grace's dress went all the way to her neck. James loved Anna's shoulders and collarbone, and he asked that whatever dress she wore, she leave them uncovered. She had the designer do the boat neck instead, just for him.” Amelia let out a sigh and said, “You look so beautiful, Annalise. It's just perfect."

As Mrs. W arranged the lace veil over my hair, Amelia cleared her throat and said. “We've been driving all over town trying on dresses. Why didn't you tell us you had this upstairs?”

With the same starchy tone she always used with Aunt Amelia, Mrs. W said, "I wanted to make sure I could find it, and that it was in good condition. You’ve seen the attics. Everything had been moved around, and it took me a while to locate it."

Before they could start arguing, I stepped in. "It doesn't matter. I'm glad I tried on all those other dresses because none of them were right and this one is."

Looking at Mrs. W, I saw tears in her eyes. "Thank you," I said, and she let out a sniffle. Mrs. W would be horrified to cry in front of the family. Breaking the mood, I said the first thing that popped into my mind.

"Who knows? Maybe you can wear it next."

Her eyes flew wide, and I winked at her. Riley had told me about catching her and Abel in the kitchen after, he was sure, they'd been kissing. Mrs. W's cheeks flushed hot pink, and her eyes dried.

"Don't be silly, Annalise. I'm far too old for romance."

"That's not what I heard," I teased.

Surprising me, Aunt Amelia cut in to say, “You're never too old for romance, Helen. You should tell that man ‘Yes’ and put him out of his misery."

Sophie and I stared at them in shock. Amelia clearly knew things that we didn't.

Mrs. W's pink cheeks went brick red, and she shook her head, spreading the skirts of the wedding dress, shaking out the wrinkles, and refusing to meet our eyes.

"I'm thinking about it," she said under her breath.

"Hhmph, thinking about it too slowly is what I say," Amelia said.

Mrs. W pinned her with a steely glare and said primly, “Then it's a good thing I didn't ask your opinion, Amelia. I'll go get a dress bag, and we can pack this up to take to the seamstress. It won't take her long to make the adjustments. I don't think it needs fitting anywhere but the hem."

And that was that.

I had a dress, and we had a wedding date.

The few weeks between finding the dress and marrying Riley passed in a blur. I had Dave Price review Sloane's contract. He made a few changes, she agreed, and I signed on the dotted line. Then I panicked and spent the next few days glued to my computer, sorting through pictures, editing the few I decided on, and generally freaking out. Everyone thought it was hysterical that I was more nervous about selling my photographs than I was about getting married.

I couldn't explain it. I'd wanted to be a professional photographer for most of my life. While I hadn't had a real show in a gallery, put out a coffee table book, or even worked taking portraits at the mall, I'd sold some pictures here and there as I'd bounced around the country. But I was nervous about my photographs. Would anyone like them? Would everyone say Sloane only took me on because I was a Winters? Was I really any good? Just the thought of my work hanging in Sloane’s gallery for anyone to see had me shaking with nerves.

But not marrying Riley. Every time I thought of our wedding, all I felt was eager anticipation.

Ever since I’d left Riley in that hospital bed, I'd abandoned the dream of a life with him. I'd been absolutely certain that dream had no hope of ever coming true. Now he was mine, and I was his. I had Riley back. We were getting married. We’d even had a few conversations about kids. We both wanted them, and neither of us was getting any younger. I'd already made an appointment to have my IUD taken out. We’d wasted enough time. We didn't want to wait another moment to start our lives together.

I found I had not the slightest trace of nerves when it came to marrying Riley. Not when we set the date. Not when I tried on my dress at the final fitting. Not on the morning of our wedding.

In my whole life, I'd never been more certain of anything than I was about marrying Riley Flynn.

Aiden gave me away. As he walked me through the foyer of our house, into the great room and up to the fireplace were Riley stood waiting, I felt only a bone-deep certainty that I would love Riley every day for the rest of my life, and he would love me in return.

I grinned like a fool through the ceremony, and Riley grinned right back. When the minister pronounced us husband and wife, he dipped to me over his arm and kissed me for so long the minister murmured, "I said kiss the bride not consummate the marriage."

Everyone burst out laughing, the minister included. Riley took my hand and pulled me through the great room, calling over his shoulder, “See you in a few."

The reception and dinner were back at Winters House since our dining room didn't have enough space to seat everyone and our kitchen wasn't quite big enough to feed the entire Winters family.

I followed Riley, my fingers twined with his as he guided me up the stairs to our bedroom. The second floor still smelled faintly of fresh paint. At the end of the hall, Riley swung open the door to the master bedroom and led me inside.

Sometime that day, while I'd been busy getting my hair and nails done for the wedding, someone—maybe Riley—had moved my big brass bed back where it belonged. Everything else in the room was new. We'd wanted a fresh start.

The past had dictated enough of our lives. All of us were ready for the future.

Riley pulled me into his arms, tipping my face up to his. "I wanted you to myself for a few minutes, Mrs. Flynn."

The name shivered through me, filling my heart with joy. Mrs. Flynn. I might have doodled that name in my psychology notebook all those years ago.

I twined my arms around his neck, falling into the love in his familiar hazel eyes.

"You set me free," I said.

Riley shook his head. "We set each other free."

He backed me toward the bed, his lips tracing mine, his hands working the buttons on the back of the dress. Laughing, I dipped my head back to free my mouth.

“Riley! We can’t. It’ll take too long to get my dress back on.”

He was undeterred. “They can wait. I’m sure Mrs. W and Abel have plenty of hors-d'oeuvres to keep them busy. I’ll be fast.”

My breath hitched as the dress sagged from my shoulders. Riley had quick fingers. “What if I don’t want you to be fast?” I breathed as he tugged the dress off and lowered me to the bed.

“Then we’ll be late. I don’t care. I just want to make love to my wife.”

I had no argument with that. I wound my arms around his neck and pulled him close, murmuring in his ear, “Take your time, Mr. Flynn. I’m all yours.”

And I was. That night, and forever.