Part 13:
She thought about her empty penthouse, her perfect espresso maker, her life of carefully controlled isolation. She thought about Emma upstairs, probably listening through the heating vent, waiting to see if the moon lady was going to stick around or disappear like all her mother’s friends had after Sarah died. I’m terrified, Clare admitted.
I don’t know how to do this. How to be what you and Emma need. We don’t need perfect, Ryan said softly. We need present. We need honest. We need someone who shows up even when it’s hard. Can you do that? Could she? Clara thought about the Singapore deal she’d postponed. The meetings she’d rescheduled. The way she’d researched Saturn’s moons until midnight because a six-year-old wanted to quiz her.
The way her heart felt lighter when Ryan smiled at her like something frozen was finally beginning to thaw. “I want to try,” she said. But Ryan, you need to understand this is going to get worse before it gets better. The press, the speculation, the scrutiny. People are going to say terrible things about both of us.
They’re going to question your motives, accuse you of using me. They’re going to call me desperate, mock me for dating down. Is that really what you want for Emma? For her to grow up hearing that her father isn’t good enough? Ryan was quiet for a long moment. Clare could see him wrestling with it.
the fear she’d just articulated clearly one he’d already considered. Finally, he said, “My daughter is growing up in a house full of love and respect and possibility. She’s growing up believing that people should be judged by their character, not their bank accounts. And yes, she might hear ugly things from ugly people, but she’ll also see her father being happy for the first time since her mother died.
She’ll see him taking a chance on connection instead of hiding behind fear. What lesson do you think is more important for her to learn? Clara felt tears spill down her cheeks. You’re too good, both of you. You deserve someone who doesn’t come with all this baggage, all this mess. Hey. Ryan reached up and brushed away her tears with his thumb, the gesture so tender it made her chest ache.
Everyone comes with baggage. Everyone comes with mess. The question is whether you want to sort through it together or alone. I’ve done alone. It’s safe, but it’s also really damn lonely. Upstairs, they heard Emma’s door cak open, heard her stage whisper, “Are you guys done talking yet? Because I picked out three books, and I’m not going to bed until someone reads them to me.
” Ryan and Clara both laughed, the tension breaking. Ryan called up, “We’re done. Be up in a minute.” He turned back to Clara, his expression serious again. “Stay, read books with us. Let Emma fall asleep thinking you’re still here. Then we’ll figure out the rest. One day at a time, one choice at a time. No pressure, no promises we can’t keep. Just stay.
Clara nodded, not trusting her voice. Ryan stood and pulled her to her feet, then did something that surprised her. He pulled her into a hug. Not a polite, professional hug, but a real embrace, his arms solid around her, his chin resting on top of her head. “We’ve got you,” he murmured. “You’re not in that elevator anymore.
You’re out here with us. Remember to breathe. Clara breathed, counting to four like he’d taught her all those weeks ago in the dark. Held for four, exhaled for four. Felt her racing heart begin to slow. When they pulled apart, Ryan kept hold of her hand. Come on, let’s go read about dragons or dinosaurs or whatever Emma’s picked out tonight.
They climbed the stairs together, and Emma was indeed waiting in her bed, surrounded by three books and looking pleased with herself. I picked good ones, she announced. This one’s about a girl who wants to be a knight. This one’s about space exploration, and this one’s about a lonely giant who makes friends with a village.
That’s quite a selection, Clara said, settling on one side of Emma’s bed, while Ryan sat on the other. Emma handed Ryan the night book. You read this one, Daddy. Clara should read the space one since that’s her area. I’ll read the giant one because I’m practicing my reading. They read together, voices overlapping, Emma correcting their pronunciation when they got character names wrong.
Clara found herself doing silly voices for the astronauts, making Emma giggle, feeling something warm and bright bloom inside her chest. This was what family felt like, she realized. Not the cold formality of her childhood, not the transactional relationships of her adult life, but this messy, joyful, present connection.
When Emma started yawning halfway through the giant book, Ryan took over, his voice dropping to a soft rumble that was clearly part of their bedtime routine. Clara watched as Emma’s eyes grew heavy, watched as she fought sleep with the determination of a child who didn’t want the day to end. “Will you be here when I wake up?” Emma mumbled, looking at Clara.
Clara glanced at Ryan, who nodded slightly. “I’ll be here,” Clara promised. “I’ll make you breakfast. Fair warning though, I don’t know how to make pancakes. That’s okay. Daddy will teach you. Emma’s eyes finally closed. Love you, Daddy. Love you too, little star. Ryan kissed her forehead. Then Emma, already half asleep, mumbled. Love you, moon lady.
