Chapter 9 – THE FAMILY SHE ALMOST BROKE

Celeste stared at Roman.

For a long time, she didn’t speak.

Then she looked at Rebecca’s handwritten pages on the desk.

“Yes,” she said quietly. “I knew.”

Oliver was standing beside June, holding the letter his mother had written for him.

He looked confused.

“Why didn’t you just give it to me?”

Celeste opened her mouth.

Nothing came out.

He tried again.

“Mom said I could love you.”

“I know, sweetheart.”

“Then why did you make me say I didn’t love her anymore?”

Celeste’s eyes filled.

“Because I was selfish.”

Roman looked at her.

She swallowed.

“I wanted something that belonged to you and your mother. And I convinced myself that if I could make everything different enough, eventually I wouldn’t feel like I was borrowing someone else’s life.”

Oliver considered this.

Then he asked, “But I liked you already.”

Celeste closed her eyes.

Those five words seemed to hurt her more than anything Roman had said.

“I know,” she whispered.

Roman moved toward the fireplace.

He stood there for a moment, looking down at Rebecca’s old chair.

Then he turned.

“I can’t marry you, Celeste.”

She looked up sharply.

“Roman—”

“Not after this.”

“Please don’t make a decision tonight.”

“I’ve spent eleven months letting other people make decisions about my son because I didn’t want to face what was happening.”

His voice remained steady.

“I’m making this one myself.”

Celeste pressed a hand against her mouth.

Oliver looked between them.

His eyes widened.

“Dad?”

Roman turned.

“Yes?”

“Is it because I didn’t do the speech?”

“No, buddy.”

“But if I’d practiced—”

Roman crossed the room immediately.

He knelt in front of his son.

“Listen carefully. None of this is because of something you did.”

Oliver looked unconvinced.

Roman continued.

“Celeste and I are adults. We made choices. Some were wrong. And those choices have consequences.”

“But I told you about the letters.”

“Yes.”

“What if I hadn’t?”

Roman took a breath.

“Then I might have gone on believing something that wasn’t true.”

Oliver looked down.

“So I ruined it.”

“No.”

Roman put his hands gently on the boy’s shoulders.

“You told the truth. You didn’t ruin anything.”

Oliver’s mouth trembled.

“Are you mad at Celeste?”

“Yes.”

“Do you still love her?”

Roman glanced toward the woman standing beside his desk.

He didn’t answer immediately.

“I care about her,” he said at last. “But caring about someone doesn’t mean you can ignore the harm they’ve caused.”

Oliver looked toward Celeste.

“Do you still love me?”

She made a small sound.

“Oh, sweetheart. Yes.”

“Even if I don’t call you Mom?”

“Yes.”

“Even if Grandma comes over?”

Celeste began crying.

“Yes.”

Oliver stood very still.

Then he asked, “Why couldn’t you say that before?”

She had no answer.

I thought that was probably the most honest moment of the evening.

Roman turned toward me.

“Emily, would you please ask the kitchen to have breakfast ready for everyone in the morning? June will be staying.”

June looked surprised.

“Roman, I don’t want to impose.”

“You’re not imposing.”

He looked at the chair beside the window.

“And I’d like you to stay longer than one night, if you’re willing.”

June’s eyes filled.

“I’d like that.”

Celeste wiped her cheeks.

“So you’re asking me to leave?”

Roman nodded.

“I think that’s best.”

She took a slow breath.

“Tonight?”

“Tomorrow. You can use the guest suite tonight.”

Oliver looked frightened.

“Are you going to disappear while I’m sleeping?”

Celeste turned toward him.

“No.”

He looked at his father.

“Promise?”

Roman understood what he was asking.

“You’ll have a chance to say goodbye properly,” he said. “Nobody’s going to disappear without telling you.”

Oliver nodded slowly.

Celeste stepped toward him.

“Could I have a hug?”

He hesitated.

Then he crossed the room and put his arms around her waist.

She held him for several seconds.

When he pulled away, he didn’t smile.

“I’m still mad,” he said.

Celeste nodded.

“You have every right to be.”

He went back to June.

Roman asked me to take Oliver upstairs and help him get ready for bed.

The boy didn’t argue.

But at the door, he stopped and turned toward his father.

“Are you coming up?”

“Yes.”

“Before I fall asleep?”

Roman looked at the watch Rebecca had given him.

Then he removed it and placed it on the desk.

“Before you fall asleep.”

Oliver seemed satisfied.

Upstairs, I helped him find his pajamas.

He placed his mother’s bracelet on his nightstand, beside the envelope she’d written his name on.

Then he climbed into bed wearing June’s green sweater.

“Would you like me to put that away?” I asked.

He shook his head.

“Grandma made it.”

“I know.”

He touched the silver bracelet.

“Emily?”

“Yes?”

“Did Celeste really do bad things?”

I sat in the chair beside his bed.

“Yes, Oliver. She did.”

“But she did nice things too.”

“She did.”

He looked puzzled.

“How can somebody be both?”

I thought about that.

“My grandmother used to say people are complicated. They can love us and still make choices that hurt us.”

Oliver considered this.

“Does that mean I have to stop loving Celeste?”

“No.”

“Good.”

He pulled the blanket over his knees.

“Because sometimes she was nice when I had bad dreams.”

I nodded.

“That’s okay to remember.”

He lay back.

After a moment, he whispered, “I’m glad Grandma came.”

“So am I.”

Downstairs, I could hear Roman’s footsteps.

For once, they weren’t heading toward the front door.

They were coming upstairs.

He entered Oliver’s room several minutes later, still wearing his black dinner jacket.

Oliver immediately sat up.

“You came.”

Roman sat beside him.

“I said I would.”

For a little while, they talked about Thanksgiving dinner.

Oliver told him the green sweater was itchy.

Roman said that was how you knew it was handmade.

The boy laughed.

Then he became quiet.

“Dad?”

“Yes?”

“Can I tell you something without making you sad?”

Roman’s expression softened.

“Of course.”

Oliver looked at the silver bracelet.

“Sometimes I pretend Mom’s sitting beside my bed.”

Roman nodded.

“I understand.”

“And sometimes I talk to her.”

“That’s all right.”

Oliver hesitated.

“Celeste said I should stop doing that because it makes you remember she died.”

Roman went still.

I saw him struggle for an answer.

Then he moved closer to his son.

“Oliver, I remember your mother died every day. You talking about her doesn’t make that happen again.”

The boy looked relieved.

But then he asked something that made Roman’s eyes fill.

“Then why did you stop coming into my room whenever I said her name?”

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