She considered it. “No, I’m sad.”
“Okay,” I said with a laugh, pulling her chair closer until our knees touched. “Why are you sad?”
“I feel like he’s not ours anymore. The other kids—they’re still part of us. But Jake… he belongs to them now.”
“I get what you mean,” I said, and I did. It felt different. Jake had been famous before this tour, but tonight he felt iconic. Like something had shifted. It was a turning point. Maybe she was right, maybe we were losing him to fame. But at least we were losing him to that, and not all the other obstacles that had been put in his way.
“He was born for this, Michelle. Tonight he made his mark.”
Tears flooded her eyes. “What if he doesn’t need us anymore?”
“Then we’ll know we did our job.”
Michelle leaned into me and rested her forehead against my shoulder. “I hate this. The kids getting older. I feel useless. What am I going to do with my life when they’re all gone?”
“I was hoping you’d focus on me. I’m still very high maintenance.”
“Yes.” She laughed, lifting her head, and our eyes met. “You’ve always been my favorite responsibility.”
“Really? Because sometimes I feel like you’re not trying very hard. Last week, you let me run out of clean socks.”
“Oh, no. I’m so sorry,” she mocked. “I promise to do better.”
“I ask so little.”
We laughed, letting the weight of the day lift.
“What’s so funny?” Kyle asked, joining us in the corner.
At seventeen, he was all gangly arms and legs and easygoing charm. Like Jake, he appeared to have made it through the worst of it with barely a scratch. And like Jake, I wasn’t sure I believed him. I couldn’t help wondering if there was more beneath the humor than he ever let on.
“Mom claims she’s going to take better care of me.”
“She still cuts the crust off your sandwiches like you’re five,” Emma said, migrating over too. “You’ve been compensated.”
Emma took a seat on my knee and wrapped her arms around me. Somewhere along the way, she’d become more of a daddy’s girl—though I suspected it was less about preference and more about distance. Her relationship with her mother had taken a hit, and while Michelle had been trying to repair the damage, Emma seemed unwilling—or unable—to meet her halfway.
Quinn drifted over from the snack table to join our impromptu family meeting, Grace right behind him, already grinning. McKallisters never could pass up a good laugh, especially not at my expense.
“Where’s Keith?” Quinn asked.
Michelle and I exchanged a look. Keith had promised he wouldn’t screw it up. He meant it. He just hadn’t been able to pull it off.
“He had somewhere else to be,” I said.
The door opened, and Jake stepped in. The energy in the room shifted instantly—whispers, applause, phones raised. People pressed closer, pulled in as if by gravity. He offered a small, practiced smile, calm and courteous, but kept his distance. Confident without inviting. Present, but unreachable. It was a shield he’d learned to wear after the kidnapping, then refined as fame tightened its grip. Jake scanned the crowd without really seeing it until he found us, and something in him eased.
“Sorry… can I get through?” he said, already moving in our direction.
In this room full of people reaching for him, he chose us. And I knew Michelle had nothing to fear. No matter how far they go, the ones who stay grounded know how to come home.
Later,after the kids were settled and the arena lights had dimmed, I finally had my wife alone. And she was in rare form.
“Did you see those women throwing themselves at Jake?” Michelle said, meeting my eyes in the mirror as she removed her jewelry. “Apparently modesty is out of style.”
She was talking about the crowd that had gathered after the show. It wasn’t anything we hadn’t seen before, but tonight the women were noticeably more aggressive.
“And, I’m sorry, but is there a fabric shortage in the United States?”
