PART 11:

What if I just want to stay? He said quietly. Victoria’s face crumpled. Don’t say that. Why not? Because it’s not fair. What’s not fair? You. Showing up now, being here, making me feel She stopped, shook her head. It’s not fair. Daniel reached across the desk, took her hand. She didn’t pull away. I’m not going anywhere, he said.

You don’t know that. Yeah. I do. Victoria looked at their hands, at the connection that felt both new and ancient. When she spoke, her voice was barely audible. I kept the ring because I was angry. Because you left and I stayed and it wasn’t fair, and I wanted to hold on to that anger, keep it alive. But then years passed and the anger faded and all I had left was the memory of something good.

Something that felt real when nothing else did. Daniel’s throat tightened. I’m not asking you to stay, she continued. I’m not asking you for anything, but if you do stay, I need to know it’s because you want to, not because some dying old man guilted you into it. It’s not guilt. Then what is it? He thought about Emma asleep in the house next door, about the job waiting in Chicago, about the promise he’d made and all the ones before it that he’d broken, about the moment he’d seen Victoria standing by the fence that first night, looking like someone who’d

been waiting a long time for something that might never come. “It’s coming home,” he said finally. “Really coming home. Not running back because I failed, but choosing to be here.” Victoria’s eyes filled with tears. “You can’t choose this because of me.” “I’m not. I’m choosing it because of me. Because for the first time in 15 years, I feel like I’m in the right place.

” She pulled her hand back, wiping her eyes. “What about the job?” “I’ll call them. Turn it down.” “Daniel?” “I’m staying, Victoria. That’s it. That’s my choice.” She looked at him for a long moment, and Daniel saw everything she wasn’t saying. All the fear and hope and exhaustion wrapped up in a single expression.

“Okay,” she whispered. “Okay.” They sat there in the study, surrounded by the debris of her father’s life, and Daniel felt something shift inside him. Not a promise made out of obligation, not guilt or duty or any of the things he’d been carrying, just a choice. His phone rang Friday morning, Thomas Greer. Daniel let it go to voicemail, then called back an hour later.

“I appreciate the offer,” he said, “but I’m staying where I am.” There was a pause. “Are you sure? This is a significant opportunity.” “I know, and I’m sure. D- Can I ask why?” Daniel looked out the window at Victoria’s house, at the light in the kitchen where she was probably making coffee, at the life that was starting to feel less like failure and more like foundation.

“Because I already found what I was looking for,” he said. When he hung up, Emma was standing in the doorway. “We’re staying?” she asked. “Yeah, we’re staying.” She ran over and hugged him, and Daniel held her tight, feeling the weight of every decision that had led to this moment. Later, he walked next door. Victoria was in the garden, pulling weeds that didn’t need pulling.

She looked up when he approached, her face uncertain. I turned down the job. He said. I know. I heard you on the phone. You were listening? The windows were open. Daniel smiled. Stalker. Neighbor. He stepped closer. And the space between them felt different now. Less like a barrier, and more like a bridge. What happens now? Victoria asked.

I don’t know. Figure it out as we go, I guess. That’s not much of a plan. It’s the only one I’ve got. Victoria pulled off her gloves, set them aside. I’m scared. Of what? That you’ll regret it. That you’ll wake up in 6 months and realize you made a mistake. I won’t. You don’t know that. No, but I’m willing to find out.

She looked at him, and for the first time since he’d come back, she smiled. Really smiled. The kind that reached her eyes and made her look less like the woman who’d built an empire, and more like the girl who’d believed in plastic rings and childhood promises. Okay, she said. Let’s find out. And standing there in the garden, with dirt under her nails and the afternoon sun breaking through the clouds, Daniel felt the past finally start to let go.

The days after the funeral blurred into something that wasn’t quite grief and wasn’t quite normalcy. Victoria existed in the space between, moving through her father’s house like someone learning to navigate a place that had always been familiar, but now felt foreign. Daniel watched it happen from a distance that kept shrinking despite his efforts to give her space.

She started showing up at his place more often, not for any particular reason. She’d just appear at the door with coffee or a tool she thought he might need or nothing at all except an excuse about checking on Emma. Daniel never questioned it, just let her in. Emma loved it. She’d taken to following Victoria around like a shadow asking questions that ranged from reasonable to completely absurd.

Victoria answered all of them with the same patient attention, never dismissive, never condescending. Why do fish sleep with their eyes open? Emma asked one afternoon while they sat by the pond. Because they don’t have eyelids, Victoria replied. That’s sad. Why is it sad? Because they can’t blink. What if something gets in their eye? They have other ways of keeping their eyes clean.

Emma considered this tossing breadcrumbs to Emperor who ignored them in favor of Steve’s portion. Do you think they dream? I don’t know. What do you think? I think they dream about being big, like whale-sized. Victoria smiled and Daniel watched from the porch pretending to read a book he hadn’t turned a page of in 20 minutes.

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