Part 12:

Neither of them knew where this was going, what it meant, what it would cost. But for the first time in a long time, both of them felt like they were moving towards something instead of just running away. Sophie was thrilled when both Daniel and Isabella showed up at pickup. She ran across the playground and hugged Daniel’s legs, then looked up at Isabella with a gaptothed grin.

You came? I did. Your dad said you missed me. I did. Guess what? I got a gold star today for my essay about families. That’s wonderful. What did you write about? Sophie grabbed both their hands and started pulling them toward the subway. I wrote about how families don’t have to look the same. Mrs. Patterson said, “Some kids have two mommies or two daddies or just one parent or grandparents, and that’s all okay because what matters is that people love each other.

” Daniel felt his chest tighten. He knew where this was going. And I wrote that I have my daddy and I used to have my mommy, but she’s in heaven now. And now I have Isabella who’s teaching me about business stuff and how to be strong. Isabella stopped walking. You wrote about me? Yeah. Is that okay? I Yes, that’s very okay. They took the subway home, Sophie chattering the whole way about her day.

Isabella looked uncomfortable in the crowded car, pressed between strangers, but she didn’t complain. She just held on to the pole and listened to Sophie explain the social dynamics of second grade. At the apartment, Daniel made spaghetti while Sophie showed Isabella her room. He could hear them through the thin walls.

This is where I sleep, and that’s my bookshelf that daddy built. And those are my mom’s pictures. See, that’s her holding me when I was a baby. She was beautiful. Daddy says I look like her. Do you think I do? I think you look like yourself. Which is better? Daniel stirred the sauce and tried not to think about Emily, about how she’d laugh at this whole situation.

A billionaire in their apartment, looking at their daughter’s crayon drawings like they were museum pieces. They ate dinner at the small table, knees bumping in the cramped space. Isabella used her fork awkwardly like she’d forgotten how to eat casual food. This is really good, she said. It’s spaghetti from a jar. I know, but it’s still good.

I can’t remember the last time I had a home-cooked meal. You don’t cook? I have people who cook for me or I eat at restaurants. But this is different. This feels like she trailed off. Like what? Sophie asked. like home. After dinner, Sophie insisted they play a board game. She pulled out Candyland, which Daniel had found at a thrift store for $3.

“I should warn you,” Daniel said to Isabella. “She’s ruthless. She’s beaten me 12 times in a row.” “It’s just luck,” Sophie said. “But I do have really good luck.” They played three rounds. Sophie won all three. Isabella came in last every time and seemed genuinely frustrated about it. “How are you doing this?” Isabella demanded after the third loss. I told you good luck.

There has to be a strategy. It’s candy land, Daniel said. There’s literally no strategy. You just draw cards. Everything has a strategy. Sophie patted Isabella’s hand. It’s okay. Not everyone can be good at everything. You’re good at business stuff. I’m good at Candyland. Daniel tried not to laugh at the expression on Isabella’s face.

At 8:00, Daniel sent Sophie to brush her teeth and get ready for bed. Isabella stood to leave, but Daniel stopped her. “You can stay for the bedtime routine if you want.” “Won’t that be weird?” “Probably, but when has that stopped us?” Isabella stayed. She sat in the doorway while Daniel tucked Sophie in, reading her a chapter from the current book they were working through.

Sophie’s eyes started drooping halfway through, but she fought to stay awake. When the chapter ended, Daniel closed the book and kissed her forehead. Good night, sweetheart. Night, Daddy. Sophie looked past him. Night, Isabella. Good night, Sophie. Will you come back again soon? If your dad says it’s okay. It’s okay, Sophie said, answering for him. You’re family now.

Daniel’s throat went tight. He turned off the light and pulled the door mostly closed. In the kitchen, Isabella stood by the window, looking out at the fire escape and the brick wall beyond. She called me family, Isabella said quietly. Yeah, she does that. Gets attached quickly. Does that worry you? Daniel thought about it.

A little, but she’s happy. And she hasn’t been really happy since Emily died. So, I’m not going to take that away from her. What if I screw it up? What if I let her down? Then you let her down. People do that. She’ll survive. Isabella turned to face him. You have a lot of faith in a kid. I have a lot of faith in my kid. There’s a difference.

They stood in silence for a moment. The 3 months is almost up. Isabella said, “I know. Have you decided about taking the job full-time?” Daniel had been thinking about little else for the past week. The foundation was different now. Real oversight, real impact, money going to places that actually needed it. He’d found a network of small organizations doing incredible work with almost nothing.

And he’d been able to funnel resources their way, a food bank in Queens that fed 300 families a week, a literacy program in the Bronx run by retired teachers, a community center in Harlem that provided after school care for working parents. It felt good. It felt like it mattered. But it also meant giving up the independence he’d fought to maintain.

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