Okay, I’ll get everything ready. We can practice the presentation and you can help me make graphs. Yes, actual graphs. I know they’re important. Okay, see you tomorrow. She handed the phone back bouncing with excitement. She’s coming home tomorrow. She’s flying back in the morning. Home. Emma had said home, not back to the farm or back here.
Home. That’s great, sweetheart. Now go get ready for bed. It’s late. Emma ran upstairs, her earlier despair completely forgotten. Lucas put the phone back to his ear. You still there? Yeah, Amelia said softly. Lucas You don’t have to say it. Say what? Whatever you’re working yourself up to say. Just come back. The rest we’ll figure out.
She was quiet for a moment. I’m scared. Of what? Of wanting this too much, of getting comfortable when I should be fighting, of letting myself believe I can have both the company and this life when I probably can’t. Why can’t you? Because one of them always loses. That’s how it works. Maybe it doesn’t have to.
Lucas, I don’t know how to do this. How to be the person who fights for her company while also being the person who helps Emma with science projects and learns to fix gates. I don’t know how to split myself like that. Then don’t split yourself. Just be you, all of you. And figure out the rest as you go. Amelia laughed, watery and tired.
That sounds terrifying. It is, but you’re good at terrifying. I’ll be back tomorrow. Late afternoon, probably. We’ll be here. Lucas? Yeah? Thank you. For not giving up on me. Thank you for not giving up on us. She hung up. Lucas stood in the kitchen feeling like something fundamental had shifted. Like they’d crossed a line neither of them could uncross, and he wasn’t sure if that was terrifying or exactly what he wanted.
Amelia’s flight landed at 4:00 the next afternoon. Lucas wasn’t there to pick her up, couldn’t leave the kids. But he watched the clock obsessively tracking her estimated arrival. Emma had cleaned the entire house, made a welcome home banner out of construction paper, and stress baked cookies with ingredients Amelia had bought weeks ago. What if she doesn’t like them? Emma worried, staring at the slightly burnt edges.
She’ll love them because you made them. But they’re ugly. They’re perfect. The truck finally pulled up at 6:30. Emma was out the door before Amelia had even turned off the engine, launching herself at the woman who caught her with a surprised laugh. I missed you. Emma said muffled against Amelia’s shoulder. I missed you, too, sweetheart.
Did you really win? Like really, really? Really, really. First round, anyway. Are you going to have to go back? Eventually, but not for a while. Amelia pulled back looking at Emma seriously. And when I do go back, I’ll always come home again. I promise. You better. We have to finish the science project.
Lucas watched from the porch, Mason on his hip. Amelia caught his eye over Emma’s head, and something passed between them. Relief, recognition, something deeper he wasn’t ready to name. She walked over, Emma still attached to her side. Hey. Hey yourself. Welcome back. It’s good to be back. She reached out, touched Mason’s hand. The baby grabbed her finger holding tight.
How was he? Fussy. He missed you, too. I find that hard to believe. Believe it. They went inside. Emma immediately dragged Amelia to the kitchen to show her the cookies and the updated science project data. Amelia examined everything with serious attention, asking questions and making suggestions.
Lucas started dinner, actual cooking, which he’d gotten better at through osmosis from watching Amelia, and listened to them talk. This was what family sounded like. Not perfect, not smooth, but real. Full of arguments and laughter and people who chose to show up for each other even when it was hard. After dinner, after Emma was in bed and Mason was down for the night, Lucas found Amelia in the guest room.
She’d changed out of her New York clothes into jeans and a sweater, her hair loose around her shoulders. She looked like herself again. Can we talk? He asked from the doorway. Sure, come in. Lucas sat on the edge of the bed, suddenly nervous. I’ve been thinking about what you said. About not knowing how to split yourself between your company and this life.
And? And I think you’re looking at it wrong. You’re not splitting yourself. You’re just being complete. Being the person who runs a company and the person who helps kids with homework. Both of those are you. That’s easier said than done. Yeah, it is, but you’re already doing it. You won your court case and you promised Emma you’d help with her project.
You’re balancing both. Amelia was quiet for a moment. What if I can’t keep it up? What if one starts taking over and the other suffers? Then we adjust. That’s what people do. They figure it out as they go. We. Amelia repeated softly. You keep saying we. Lucas met her eyes. Because that’s what this is, whether we’re calling it that or not.
Lucas, I need to know She stopped, looking scared in a way he’d never seen. I need to know if this is real. If you want me here because you want me or because I’m useful. You think I’d let just anyone into my kids’ lives? You think I’d stand up to corporate lawyers for someone I saw as useful? I don’t know what to think.
I’ve been used so many times I can’t tell the difference anymore. Lucas stood, crossed to where she sat, and took her hands. I want you here because you make everything better. The house, the farm, my kids’ lives, my life. Not because you cook or clean or pay for groceries. Because you’re you. And I don’t want to imagine this place without you in it.
That’s That’s a lot. I know. And if it’s too much, tell me. But I’m done pretending this is temporary or casual or just two people helping each other out. Amelia looked down at their joined hands. I’m still going to have to go back to New York sometimes, for the legal battles, for rebuilding the company.
