Chapter 41 One day at a time

Chapter 41 One day at a time
The apartment was quiet when Emily came back from Liam’s room. He had kicked off the blanket again and was clutching the stuffed bear Diane gave him like it was oxygen. She smoothed his hair, kissed his forehead, and stood in the doorway for a long time listening to him breathe.

When she turned, Ethan was still on the balcony, hands in his pockets, looking out at the city the way he used to when they were twenty-three and thought the whole world could be fixed with a plan and a little stubbornness. He didn’t turn when she stepped outside. He just shifted over half an inch on the railing and left space for her. Emily took it.

The night air was warm for June but not heavy. Somewhere down the street a car alarm went off and died. From the apartment below came the sound of a baby crying and then being soothed. Ordinary life. The kind they had tried and failed at once. “He’s asleep,” Emily said. “Good,” Ethan replied. He glanced at her, then back at the skyline. “You didn’t have to stay.” “I know,” he said. “I said that already.” “You did.” They fell into quiet again, but it wasn’t the sharp, brittle quiet from before. It was softer. The kind that didn’t need to be filled.
Emily pulled her knees up to her chest. She was still in the blouse she wore to the office, sleeves rolled, lipstick gone. She felt smaller without the armor of meetings and deadlines. “The manufacturer is really fixed?” she asked. “Yeah,” Ethan said. “I called in a favor with a friend from the board. They’re air-freighting the missing pieces. It’ll cost, but it’ll be here in ten days. In time for the buyers’ showroom.” Emily exhaled. She hadn’t realized she was holding her breath. “Thank you.” “Don’t,” Ethan said. “You’d do it for me.” “I would,” Emily admitted.
She picked at a loose thread on her sleeve. “I declined the buyout.” “I know,” Ethan said. “Your assistant cc’d me on the email. One line. Very you.” Emily laughed under her breath. “Very me.” “Are you sure?” Ethan asked. He didn’t sound like he was testing her. He sounded like he meant it. “Because it was a lot of money, Em.” “I’m sure,” Emily said. “I don’t want to build someone else’s brand. I want to build ours. Mine and Liam’s. Maybe…”

She stopped. “Maybe what?” Ethan prompted, but gently. “Maybe yours too,” Emily finished. “If you want.” Ethan didn’t answer right away. He reached for her hand on the railing and laced their fingers together. His palm was warm and a little rough from golf he didn’t play anymore and from holding Liam’s bike when he was teaching him to ride last summer. “I do want,” he said finally. “I want in. Not as a savior. Not as the ex who feels guilty. As a partner. As a dad. As…” He hesitated. “As the guy who’s trying to be better.” Emily looked at their joined hands.

“That’s a lot of roles.” “I’m good at multitasking,” Ethan said, and she could hear the small smile in his voice. She bumped her shoulder against his. “You’re impossible.” “You’ve said that before.” “And you never listened.” “I’m listening now.” They sat like that until the sky started to pale. Not sunrise yet, just the suggestion of it. The city was starting to wake up. Delivery trucks. The first train. Emily’s phone buzzed on the table inside. She ignored it. “You should go home,” she said, but she didn’t let go of his hand. “I don’t want to,” Ethan said. “Then don’t,” Emily said.

Ethan stood and held out his hand. “Come inside. The couch is more comfortable than this railing and you look like you’re about to fall over.” Emily let him pull her up. Inside, the apartment smelled like pizza and laundry detergent. Liam’s drawing was taped to the fridge with a magnet. Stick figures. Mommy. Daddy. Grandma. A big sun. Liam had written “family” in wobbly letters under it. Emily’s throat tightened. She didn’t cry. She was too tired to cry. Ethan noticed. He didn’t comment. He just went to the kitchen, filled a glass of water, and set it next to her on the coffee table. Then he sat on the floor in front of the couch, back against it, like he used to when they watched movies and Liam was a baby sleeping between them.

“You don’t have to stay on the floor,” Emily said. “I know,” Ethan said. “I like the floor.” Emily lay down on the couch and pulled the throw blanket over herself. Ethan didn’t move to join her. He just stayed there, close enough that she could see him if she turned her head. “Emily,” he said after a while. “Hmm?” “I’m sorry. For before. For all of it.” Emily closed her eyes. “I know.” “I’m going to keep showing up,” Ethan said. “Even when it’s hard. Even when you don’t want me to. I’ll ask first.” “Okay,” Emily whispered. “I’m going to be good to Liam,” Ethan continued. “I’m going to be good to you. Not because I expect anything. Because I want to.” “Okay,” Emily said again. The last thing she heard before sleep took her was Ethan’s breathing, steady and close.

She woke up to sunlight and the smell of coffee. And to Liam’s voice. “Daddy, you’re on the floor.” Emily sat up fast, blanket falling. Ethan was sitting up too, hair a mess, rubbing his eyes like a kid caught in something. Liam stood in the doorway in dinosaur pajamas holding his bear. “Morning,” Ethan said, and his voice was rough with sleep. “Morning,” Liam said. Then, decisive, “Can we have pancakes?” Emily looked at Ethan. Ethan looked at Emily. “Burnt ones?” Ethan asked. “Extra special,” Liam said proudly. “Yeah,” Emily said. “Yeah, we can do pancakes.” The morning was chaos in the best way. Flour on the counter. Syrup on the table. Liam standing on a chair “helping” and mostly making a mess. Ethan burned the first batch and Liam declared them perfect anyway. Emily took pictures she knew she would keep forever. At 9:15 her phone rang. Legal.

The manufacturer was confirmed. The showroom was set. By 10, Diane texted: Lunch Sunday? My place? Emily typed back: Yes. Thank you. Ethan saw it over her shoulder. “She’s trying,” he said. “I know,” Emily said. “So am I.” The rest of the week moved fast. Emily was in the office until late, but Ethan started showing up with dinner. Not takeout every time. Sometimes he cooked. Badly. Liam loved it. They fell into a rhythm that didn’t have a name yet. Drop-offs. Pickups. Texts about fabric swatches and pediatrician appointments.

A shared calendar that now had both their names on it. On Saturday, Emily had to go to the studio for a fitting. Ethan offered to take Liam to the park. “Are you sure?” Emily asked. “I’m sure,” Ethan said. “We’ll be back by four. With ice cream. I promise.” When they came back, Liam was sticky and happy and Ethan looked tired in a good way. “He beat me at the swings,” Ethan said. “I’m very competitive.” “You let him win,” Emily said. “Maybe,” Ethan said. “Don’t tell him.” That night after Liam was asleep, Emily found Ethan on the balcony again. He had two glasses of wine. He handed her one. “To not running,” he said, clinking his glass against hers. “To staying,” Emily said. They drank. The city was loud again, but not in a bad way. Alive. “The showroom is next Thursday,” Emily said. “Big buyers.” “I know,” Ethan said. “I cleared my schedule.” “You don’t have to come.” “I want to,” Ethan said. “I want to see what you built.” Emily nodded. She leaned her head on his shoulder. He didn’t move away. He didn’t make it more than it was. He just stayed. On Sunday they went to Diane’s.

The house was bigger than Emily remembered and full of light. Diane had made pasta. Homemade. Liam ate three bowls. Diane and Emily talked in the kitchen while Ethan and Liam built a Lego set in the living room. “I’m glad you came,” Diane said quietly. “Me too,” Emily said. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. For the things I said. For not seeing you.” “Thank you,” Emily said. “That means a lot.” Diane squeezed her hand. “He loves you. Both of you. He’s been trying to tell me for a year.” Emily didn’t know what to say to that, so she just nodded. On the drive home, Liam fell asleep in the back. Ethan reached over and turned down the music. “That was okay,” he said. “That was good,” Emily said. “Yeah,” Ethan agreed. At a stoplight, he took her hand again. Held it until the light turned green.

They didn’t talk about what it meant. They didn’t have to. Not yet. The next Thursday, the showroom was packed. Buyers from Paris, Tokyo, New York. Emily’s collection sold out in two hours. Ethan stood in the back in a suit that actually fit and clapped when no one was looking. After, they went back to the apartment. Pizza again. Liam asleep by eight. Emily and Ethan on the couch. No TV. “I think this is working,” Emily said. “I think so too,” Ethan said. He turned to her. “Can I kiss you?” Emily looked at him. Really looked. At the tired eyes and the steady hands and the man who was learning how to stay. “Yes,” she said.

The kiss was slow. Careful. Like they were both afraid of breaking it. Like they both wanted to. When they pulled back, Ethan rested his forehead against hers. “One day at a time,” he said. “One day at a time,” Emily agreed. Outside, June was still hot and loud. But inside, for the first time in a long time, it was quiet. And it was enough.