“It’s beautiful,” I whispered. “But I’ll keep it for when Alicia’s older.”
His gaze softened. “It’s for you.”
“I know,” I murmured, closing the box gently. “But I’llsave it for her anyway.”
He only nodded.
Alicia doesn’t look up. Her fingers tighten around the book’s spine.
“I saw,” she murmurs. “I saw his black car pull up.”
“He’s waiting downstairs.”
Alicia glances out the window again, then back at me. “Is Ethan there? Do I have to go?”
I swallow hard. Ethan slipped out through the back door the moment Colin’s car appeared at the end of the driveway. When I called after him, he just said,“Please, not now, Mom,”and kept walking.
“Your brother went for a walk,” I tell her. "But your grandparents are downstairs. And I’ll be there too.”
She looks down, firmly clutching the book against her chest, her fingers tightening around it.
“I don’t want to go, Mom,” she says, her voice breaking on the last word.
My throat tightens. “You really don’t want to come down?”
She shakes her head.
Alicia isn’t stubborn; she’s hurting. She’s just trying to make sense of a world that stopped feeling safe overnight. I could never force her or tell her that what she feels is wrong—she has every right to protect herself in the only way she knows how. All I can do is give her time, help her find ways to process and cope, and hope that one day the hurt won’t feel so heavy.
“Okay, sweetheart.” I lean forward and press a kiss to her forehead. “We’ll be downstairs if you change your mind. Or you can ask us to come up, if that makes you feel more comfortable.”
She nods, eyes fixed on the pages she’s not really reading.
I leave the room, each step heavier than the last.
I don’t let myself think about the Christmases before… the laughter, the noise, the warmth. The four of us tangled up in lights and wrapping paper and sugar cookies.
When I reach the last step, Colin turns from where he’s been standing by the window, talking with my father. The moment our eyes meet, his shoulders slump.
“She’s not coming down, is she?”
I shake my head.
Dad pats his shoulder. “I’ll give you two some space. I’ll be in the kitchen with your mother if you need anything.”
I grab my coat and motion for Colin to follow me outside. We step onto the porch. I sit in one of the wooden chairs, and he takes the one across from me. For a while, we just sit in silence. Having to be around him after everything feels like a punishment.
“Do you think they’ll ever forgive me?” he asks finally.
I look down, my fingers tracing the arm of the chair. “I don’t know, Colin. I hope so. I know how deeply this hurts them. They’re just kids… they shouldn’t have to carry pain like this.”
He swallows hard, his eyes closing. “And you?” His voice falters. “Do you think you’ll ever forgive me?”
I draw in a slow breath. “I’ve never been through something like this. There’s no timeline. No guidebook.”
I wait for him to look at me, needing him to understand the sincerity of what I’m about to say.
“And if I’m being honest, the only reason I try to keep even a minimum of civility with you is because of our children. If it weren’t for them, I wouldn’t even be able to look at you. I wouldn’t speak a single word to you ever again.”
