"Margaret will remain as director. You will report to her. Two reading sessions a week, plus whatever administrative support she needs that you can manage around your hours here. It's temporary, supervised. To see if it's sustainable." He finally turned to look at me. "Do you accept?"
The offer was cautious, hedged with conditions. But it was a chance. A tiny, fragile foothold.
"Yes," I said, the word rushing out. "Absolutely. Thank you."
He didn't acknowledge the thanks. He took a step closer, his gaze intent, searching my face in the half-light. "I need to understand something, Anna. Why? Why do you care so much about my family? About Elena’s legacy?"
The question hung between us, heavy and direct. The vulnerable intimacy of the darkened room, the shared memory of Daisy's small hands holding ours, made the usual walls feel porous.
"Because I've spent my whole life getting it wrong," I heard myself say, the words soft and raw. I walked to the sofa, not sitting, just needing to hold onto something. "My mom left when I was twelve. Just a note. She used to say love could fix people if you were patient enough. Then she proved herself wrong by running."
I could feel Jack shift slightly, his attention sharpening.
"So I spent seven years trying to fix my dad. He drank. I hid bottles, made excuses, believed if I just loved him enough, was good enough, he'd choose me. He didn't. He died when I was nineteen."
Jack was quiet, but I could hear his breathing change. Deeper. Like he was taking in the weight of what I was saying.
"After that, I kept trying. I was a magnet for broken men. Ben, who was so sad, I foolishly thought I could be his happiness. Mark, whose anger was always someone else's fault. I stayed too long, gave too much, and believed my love was the magic ingredient." I finally looked up at him. His expression was unreadable, but something had changed in his eyes. Not pity. Something closer to recognition.
"Then came Carter. He seemed solid. In control. By the time I realized that control was a cage, I was trapped. The night of the accident... that was when I finally saw the monster. But seeing it and escaping it were two different things."
I wrapped my arms around myself. "So you see, I'm an expert in one thing: trying to save people who don't want to be saved. But the foundation... It's not about fixing something broken. It's about nurturing something beautiful that Elena already built. Maybe this is the first time I can actually help something grow."
The silence after my confession was profound. Jack had moved closer without me realizing it. He was standing by the arm of the sofa.
"Elena had a theory about love. She said it wasn't a crowbar to pry people open, or a bandage to stop their bleeding. It was just... a light you held up, so they could see their own way."
The image was so beautiful, so perfect, that my eyes burned.
He paused, his gaze distant. "She would have liked you, I think. If circumstances were different."
The words were a kindness I couldn't bear. "Please." My voice cracked, and suddenly, tears I'd been holding back for months were threatening to spill. "Don't say that."
"Why not?"
"Because it makes this harder." I pressed my palms to my eyes, fighting for control. "Imagining a world where we could have been normal. Where I could havemet you at the foundation. Where Elena would be introducing us. It just makes the real world hurt more."
He took the final step that brought him directly in front of me. "The world now is you, in my home, caring for my daughter, and asking to run my wife's foundation. That's the world we have to face, Anna. Not the one that could have been."
I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. "I know."
We stood there, inches apart, in the quiet dark. I could smell his cologne, something woody and expensive. The air between us felt charged, alive.
"I don't forgive you."
The words were sudden, sharp. A cold splash of reality shattering the fragile moment. His voice was clear and firm, but I heard the effort it took to say it.
"I need you to know that. This arrangement... It's for Daisy. It's for the foundation. It's not an absolution."
The words didn't land with the sting I expected. "I don't expect your forgiveness," I said, matching his quiet honesty. "I wouldn't know what to do with it if you offered."
He gave a short, sharp nod. But he didn't move away. My eyes, adjusting to the dim light, caught a detail out of place. His tie, usually knotted with impeccable precision, was slightly askew, the end dangling longer than the other.
Without thinking, driven by an impulse I didn'tunderstand, I reached up. My fingers brushed the silk of his tie, my knuckles grazing the solid warmth of his chest through his shirt.
I felt his sharp intake of breath. Felt his heart hammering beneath my knuckles, as fast as mine.
He froze.
