“I stopped being Edward. I became his son.”
“No.”
“Then what were you protecting yourself from?”
He looked at me for a long moment.
“Finding out that you might.”
He’d never given me the chance to prove him wrong.
“So instead, you made the decision for me.”
“No.”
“I wanted to be normal.”
“You were normal.”
He blinked.
“You were my husband. Jamie’s dad. None of that would’ve disappeared because your father had money.”
“I didn’t know.”
“You didn’t ask.”
“I wanted to be normal.”
Edward went quiet.
I turned away before I said something I couldn’t take back.
A knock sounded.
A man leaned in. “They’re waiting on you.”
Edward didn’t move.
“They’re waiting on you.”
“For what?” I asked.
Gia looked at him. “He has to decide whether he’s going to lead this place or keep letting everyone else do it.”
“You ran from your father because he controlled people.”
“This isn’t the same.”
“No,” I said. “Now you’re letting a dead man control you.”
Edward looked toward the hallway.
“This isn’t the same.”
For once, I didn’t tell him what to do.
“Whatever you decide in there,” I said, “make sure it’s yours.”
That’s when I saw the gray folder on the corner of his desk.
Jamie’s name was written across the label.
I picked it up.
I didn’t tell him what to do.
Edward moved immediately.
“Jillian, wait.”
I looked at him.
“Why?”
His face told me enough.
I opened it.
“Jillian, wait.”
Inside were draft plans for money Edward intended to set aside for Jamie when he was older.
I closed the folder.
“Jamie was eventually going to know about all this.”
Edward swallowed.
“Yes.”
I closed the folder.
“But not me.”
“That’s not what I wanted.”
“Then what did you want?”
“Time. To figure out how to tell you without changing everything.”
“Everything already changed, Edward. I just wasn’t allowed to know.”
“But not me.”
I picked up my purse.
“Where are you going?”
“Home.”
I stopped at the door.
“You’ve had 12 years to decide what I could know. I’m done letting you make that choice for me.”
His face fell.
“Where are you going?”
“What happens now?”
“I don’t know.”
For once, I was okay saying it.
“But whatever happens next, I decide with the truth in front of me.”
Then I left.
“What happens now?”
***
Edward called twice while I drove home.
I didn’t answer.
That evening, he came into the kitchen in his dusty work clothes.
I looked at him.
“Why did you change back?”
He glanced down.
I didn’t answer.
“I didn’t know which version of me you wanted.”
“That’s the problem, Edward. You keep deciding which version I get.”
He pulled out a chair.
“Tell me what you want.”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Tell me what you want.”
He started to speak, but I held up a hand.
“We weren’t poor. I know that. But every December, I cut corners so Jamie could have the things he wanted. I skipped things for myself. I moved money around. I worried.”
Edward looked down.
“I know.”
“No. You watched.”
His face tightened.
“I know.”
“You watched me make those choices while knowing there was another life sitting behind a locked door.”
“I didn’t want the money controlling us.”
“Then why did you control the truth?”
He went quiet.
“I would’ve supported you. If you wanted nothing to do with the money, I would’ve understood. But you never gave me the chance.”
“You watched me make those choices.”
“I was scared you’d see me differently.”
“I do see you differently.”
He looked up.
“Not because of the money. Because you didn’t trust me with the truth.”
For the first time, Edward didn’t try to defend himself.
“I do see you differently.”
***
We stayed together, but nothing went back to normal.
Two weeks later, Gia came to dinner.
Jamie studied her across the table for most of the meal before finally asking, “How come I’ve never met you?”
Gia’s fork stopped.
Edward opened his mouth.
I knew that look.
Gia came to dinner.
He was searching for the least painful version.
I touched his wrist.
“Don’t.”
He looked at me.
I turned to Jamie.
“Don’t.”
“Your dad and Gia didn’t see each other much for a long time. The adults made mistakes, and we’re trying to do better now.”
Jamie frowned. “Did I do something?”
“No,” I answered so quickly that Gia looked at me. “None of this was because of you.”
Gia put down her fork.
“I should’ve met you a long time ago,” she told him.
“Did I do something?”
Jamie considered that.
“Okay.”
Then he pointed at the bread basket.
“Can you pass those?”
Gia laughed and handed it over.
“Can you pass those?”
The conversation moved on.
But beneath the table, Edward reached for my hand.
I didn’t take it.
Not yet.
I didn’t need to punish him.
I also didn’t need to pretend we were healed before we were.
Not yet.
For the first time, that difference felt clear.
***
One Saturday, I enrolled in an evening interior design course I’d postponed twice.
Edward saw the confirmation.
“You signed up?”
“Yes.”
“You nervous?”
Edward saw the confirmation.
“Terrified.”
He nodded.
“Good.”
I raised an eyebrow.
He corrected himself.
“I mean… I’m glad you did it anyway.”
I raised an eyebrow.
A few mornings later, I came downstairs and found Edward packing his own lunch.
A folded note and pen sat beside my coffee.
“Meeting at six. Dinner after?”
I wrote back.
“Yes. Don’t be late.”
Edward read it and smiled.
“Meeting at six. Dinner after?”
Jamie leaned over the counter.
“Does Dad get notes again?”
I took a sip of coffee.
“Sometimes.”
Edward opened his lunchbox and placed the note inside.
This time, he carried it with him.
