“Touché.”
I glance around. The new lighting softens the edges of the space. The updated menu on the wall still has the biscotti recipe in Dad’s handwriting. The chairs have been reupholstered, the wall behind the counter painted a deep olive green.
It’s no longer mine.
It’s better.
I take a breath, the kind that makes room in mychest. “I think I held on so long because I thought walking away meant I had failed him.”
“You didn’t,” Tessa says, quieter this time. “You made him proud.”
My throat tightens. I nod, because words would tip me over.
Tessa wraps her hand over mine. It’s a strange feeling—being at peace and letting go in the same moment.
“Okay, I’d better go and get ready. I’m so nervous.” I collect my bag.
“You’ll be great. We’re both finally where we should have been, right from the start.”
I smile. “I’ll see you tonight?”
She shoos me toward the door. “Of course, I’ll be there. Off you go. I need to open.”
When I leave, I don’t look back.
Xander
The school still smells of pencil shavings and overripe bananas. That distinct scent of childhood chaos. I smooth my tie, not that it matters—I’m surrounded by a sea of tiny humans who couldn’t care less that I’m a Stone.
The C.O.R.A. initiative banner flutters above the stage.
My Cora stands by the podium, her red curls loose over a pale green dress, notebook in hand. Her fingers tremble. Only I would notice.
Only I know she’s scared out of her mind even though she’s read this story to me a dozen times at home—out loud, under the covers, half-asleep, fully brave.
Declan’s daughter, Zoya, tugs on my suit sleeve. “Is Auntie Cora going to cry?”
“Maybe,” I whisper. “She cries when she’s proud. It’s like a superpower.”
“She’s pretty,” Zoya’s brother, Zach, adds with his usual deadpan solemnity.
“She’s ours,” I say, a bit more gruffly than I intend.
The kids settle. Cora steps up and begins. “Once, there was a fox who…”
Her voice is soft at first, but it grows, line by line, until the room hushes into one single breath.
The story unspools like thread around all of us, binding laughter and wonder into something whole.
The teacher beside me wipes her eyes.
The moment Cora finishes, the children burst into applause. She looks up and finds me in the crowd. Our eyes meet, and I hope she sees the pride in mine.
Before Andrew ushers her away for the signing, I make my way to her and pull her to the side.
Wrapping my arm around her waist, I hold hercloser, kissing her hair. I would do more, but the room is full of children and parents.
“I’m so fucking proud of you, Coraline.”
