PART 16:

The words hit like a fist to the gut. That’s not fair. Adrian said quietly. Isn’t it? Your daughter’s mother left you. You’ve spent 8 years building walls so high nobody can get over them. And now someone’s trying, and you’re doing everything you can to push them away before they get the chance to leave first. You don’t know what you’re talking about.

Don’t I? Selena’s voice was sharp. You keep saying you’re protecting Emma, but I think you’re protecting yourself, and you’re using her as the excuse. Adrian stood up. I’m done with this conversation. Of course you are. Running away. That’s what you do. I don’t run away. I’m trying to keep my life from falling apart.

Your life is already falling apart, Adrian. You’re miserable at a job that doesn’t appreciate you. You’re living paycheck to paycheck with no safety net. You’re so focused on just surviving that you’ve forgotten what it’s like to actually live. Selena stood, too. “I’m offering you a chance at something real, something good, and you’re too scared to take it.

” Because taking it means risking everything I have. You don’t have anything, not really. You have a job that could fire you tomorrow, an apartment you can barely afford, a life that’s one emergency away from collapse, and you’re so afraid of losing those things that you won’t reach for anything better. Adrian felt his hands shaking.

You have no idea what it’s like. You’ve always had options, always had money to fall back on. I don’t get second chances. If I screw this up, Emma pays the price. Then let me help you. I don’t want your money. I’m not offering money. I’m offering partnership, support, a chance to build something together instead of you fighting alone.

Selena’s voice cracked. But you have to let me in. You have to stop treating me like I’m the enemy. You’re not the enemy. The situation is. Then fight the situation with me instead of fighting me. They stared at each other across the small table, both breathing hard, both too stubborn to look away first. Adrian’s phone buzzed. Text from Mrs.

Castellanos. Emma’s asking about Selena again. Says you should invite her over for dinner Sunday. I told her I’d ask you. He showed Selena the text. Something in her expression softened. What did you tell Emma? About us? That we’re figuring it out. Are we? Adrian sat back down slowly. I don’t know.

I want to be, but every time I think we’re making progress, something else blows up. That’s life. Things blow up. The question is whether we’re going to deal with it together or separately. I’m not used to together. I know. Neither am I. Selena sat down across from him again. But I’m willing to learn if you are. Adrian looked at her, really looked at her. She was scared, too.

He could see it in the set of her shoulders, the way her hands were clenched on the table. This wasn’t easy for her, either. She was just better at pretending it was. Sunday dinner, he said finally. With Emma. If you’re serious about this, then you need to be part of her life, too. Not just the fun stuff, the real stuff.

I want that. It’s mac and cheese and homework help and listening to her talk about dolphins for an hour straight. I’m aware. And if this doesn’t work out, if we can’t figure this out, she’s going to get hurt. I need you to understand that. Selena reached across the table and took his hand. Her fingers were cold.

I understand, and I’m not going to let that happen. You can’t promise that. No. But I can promise I’ll try, that I’ll show up, that I won’t run when things get complicated. She squeezed his hand. Can you promise the same? Adrian thought about all the times he’d been ready to walk away. All the times fear had driven his decisions.

All the years he’d spent building walls instead of bridges. Yeah, he said, I can promise that. Sunday dinner was chaos in the best possible way. Emma had insisted on helping cook, which meant there was pasta water on the floor and cheese grated all over the counter. Selena showed up at 6:00 with flowers for the table and a bottle of wine Adrian was pretty sure it cost more than his monthly grocery budget.

You didn’t have to bring anything, he said. I wanted to. Selena looked around the small apartment, taking in the worn furniture and the crayon drawings on the fridge and the stack of library books on the coffee table. This is nice. It’s small. It’s lived in. That’s better. Emma appeared from her room in her purple dress again, hair freshly brushed.

Selena! We’re making mac and cheese, the fancy kind with three cheeses. That sounds amazing. Sounds Dad usually just makes the box kind, but I told him we had to do better because you’re coming over. Adrian shot Emma a look. Thanks for that. You’re welcome. They cooked together, or tried to. Selena admitted she had no idea how to make mac and cheese from scratch.

She’d grown up eating it from a box, too, when they could afford it. Emma appointed herself head chef and gave instructions while Adrian and Selena followed orders. More milk, Dad. It’s too thick. I added milk. Not enough. Selena, can you stir while I add the cheese? On it. They sat down to eat at 7:00. The mac and cheese was lumpy and oversalted, but nobody cared.

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