Hector turned to face me fully and I stood up on shaky legs.
“I’m sorry,” he said—the words quiet, steady, and nothing like the man who’d shouted at me months ago. “For how I reacted, for the things I said. For making you carry guilt that was never yours to bear.”
I opened my mouth but nothing came out.
“I was an idiot,” he continued. “What your father did wasn’t your fault. You were just as much a victim of his choices as we were.” He took a breath. “I punished you for his sins and I’m sorry. You deserved better from me. I’m so, so sorry, Sarah…”
“Hector—”
“I’m not asking you to forgive me,” he said quickly. “I was trapped for two years and you helped me find a way out. Both of us. And I repaid you by—” His voice caught. “By destroying you.”
“You didn’t destroy me,” I said softly. “You were hurting. I was scared. We both made mistakes.” The words finally came. “You were hurt and angry and you had every right to be. I should have told you the truth the moment I found out instead of being a coward.”
“You weren’t a coward. You were scared.” He moved closer. “We both were. But I’m hoping—” He stopped. Started again. “I’m hoping we can move past them.”
My heart was beating so fast I thought it might break through my ribs. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I miss you. Lily misses you. We both want you back in our lives if you’ll have us.”
“I’m in London now. I have a job, a life?—”
“I know. And I’m not asking you to give that up.” His eyes held mine. “I’m just asking if maybe, someday, you might visit us. Or we can come here to visit you. Wherever it is, we’ll figure it out.”
I looked at Lily who’d become so important to me, who was speaking freely and smiling and full of life. Then I looked at her father who was watching me with hope written all over his face.
“We will figure it out,” I heard myself say—and for the first time, I believed it.
The recital was in a small studio in Islington. Hector and Lily spent more time in London than New York now, so she decided to pursue her classes here.
Lily had insisted—begged, actually—that both of us come watch her perform. She’d signed up last minute for an open showcase and spent every spare moment practicing in our hotel room, her small feet moving through combinations while she hummed the music under her breath.
Now I sat beside Hector in a room full of parents and siblings, our shoulders almost touching in chairs that were too close together. The lights dimmed and music started and Lily appeared on stage in a pale blue leotard.
She danced a solo piece—lyrical and beautiful—her arms reaching upward like she was trying to touch the sky. Her movements were controlled but joyful, technical but full of emotion. She smiled the entire time.
Hector’s hand found mine in the darkness. His fingers laced through mine and neither of us pulled away.
When Lily finished, the audience applauded and she curtsied and her face was glowing. After, she bounded over to us and immediately started introducing us to the other dancers.
“This is Sarah,” she told a group of girls, pride radiating off her. “She’s my favorite person in the whole world.”
My heart expanded in my chest.
“And this is my daddy,” Lily continued, beaming at Hector. “He’s the best daddy and he cooks really good food.”
Hector smiled at her, the kind that reached his eyes and made him look years younger.
The girls all scattered eventually, pulled away by parents ready to leave. Lily went to collect her things and Hector and I stood together in the emptying studio.
“Are you happy here?” he asked quietly. “In London?”
I thought about my office with its view of the Thames, my flat with the creaky floorboards I'd grown to love, the life I'd stitched together from nothing but stubbornness and grief. "I am," I said. "But I miss New York sometimes. The noise of it. The way it never lets you feel alone, even when you are." I paused. "I miss certain people."
The wind picked up, carrying the salt-sharp smell of the harbor. A strand of hair whipped across my face, and before I could brush it away, his fingers were there, tucking it gently behind my ear.
"Would you ever come back permanently?"
The question hung between us, weighted with everything we hadn't said. I watched a ferry cut across the gray water, its wake spreading white against the dark.
