Fiona’s head turned sharply. “What?”
“The other day. When I came in and—” He stopped. Started again. “I was angry. I had a right to be angry. But some of what I said was cruel. And I’m sorry for that.”
“You weren’t wrong.”
“Being right and being kind aren’t the same thing.” He set the sea glass down on the rock between them. “I could have said what I needed to say without trying to hurt you. I didn’t. That’s on me.”
Fiona stared at the sea glass. Green, worn smooth by years of tumbling in the waves.
“I’ve been thinking,” she said slowly. “About what you said. About doing what felt safe instead of what was right.”
“Fiona—”
“No, let me finish.” She wrapped her arms around her knees, looking younger than her years. “You were right. I was scared. I was young and pregnant and completely alone, and the only thing I could control was access. Who got to see her. Who got to know her. Who got to love her.” Her voice cracked slightly. “I told myself I was protecting her. But I was protecting myself. From losing control. From having to share. From—” She stopped.
“From what?”
“From not being enough.” The words came out barely above a whisper. “If she had you, and your family, and all of this—what if she didn’t need me anymore? What if she realized I was the lesser option?”
Tyler wasn’t used to what he felt now. Not anger. Something softer. Something that understood.
“That’s not how it works,” he said quietly.
“I know that now. I didn’t know it then.”
“She’s always going to need you. You’re her mother. Sixteen years of you—that doesn’t disappear because she has more people now.”
Fiona wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “Margo said something similar. About expanding. Making room.”
“Margo’s usually right about these things.”
“She’s formidable, actually. In a good way.”
Tyler smiled. “That’s the general consensus.”
A pelican dove into the water nearby, emerged withsomething silver in its beak. They watched it fly off, heavy with its catch.
“I saw myself in those photographs,” Fiona said quietly. “Not literally. But—she has my eye. The way I used to see, before everything became about deadlines and deliverables and keeping the business running.” She shook her head. “She’s better than I was at her age. Much better.”
“You raised that. The curiosity, the persistence—that’s you.”
“I didn’t nurture it. I didn’t even see it.”
“You’re seeing it now.”
Fiona was quiet for a long moment. The sun had dropped lower, the breeze a bit stronger.
“I don’t know how to do this,” she said finally. “Co-parenting from opposite sides of the world. Sharing her with people I barely know. Trusting that—” She stopped. Shook her head.
“Trusting what?”
“That you won’t disappear again. That this isn’t just a phase for you. That she won’t end up hurt because you got bored or distracted or decided photography in Bali was more important than?—”
“That’s fair.” Tyler turned to face her. “I deserve that. I’ve been unreliable. I’ve been absent. I’ve been exactly the kind of father you were afraid I’d be.”
“Tyler—”
“But I’m not that person anymore. Stella changed that. Being here, with her, every day—it changedeverything.” He picked up the sea glass again, held it up to the light. “I’m not going anywhere. Not for Bali, not for assignments, not for anything. She’s my priority now. The only one that matters.”
