"We can't do that again," I say. "Either of us. We can't just go silent, stop communicating, walk away."
"Agreed."
Arthur is quiet for a moment.
“We need to decide how this works,” he says. “Not just emotionally.”
He hesitates. “Henry. The house. I don’t want to make those calls alone anymore.”
I nod. “Then we make them together.”
His hand tightens around mine. “Okay.”
I set my mug down and turn toward him fully. "I meant what I said before. I'm not going anywhere. But that doesn't mean I'm always going to fit into your careful plans. I'm still going to wear sparkly hoodies and buy ridiculous handbags and take Henry to conventions."
Arthur's expression softens. "I wouldn't want you any other way."
"Even in public?"
"Especially in public." He squeezes my hand. "Lindsay, the problem was never your sparkle. I don't want to change who you are. I love you. I just didn't know how I fit in your shiny world."
I lean into him then, my head finding the space between his shoulder and neck that seems made for this exact purpose. His arm comes around me automatically, steady and warm.
"So what happens now?" I ask.
Arthur is quiet for a moment. "Now," he says slowly, "we figure out how to be a family."
The word lands gently. Not a demand. Not an expectation. Just a possibility we're both choosing to believe in.
"I'd like that," I whisper.
We sit like that for a while longer, not talking, just being. The house around us feels different than it did before I left—less like a museum and more like a place where real people live. Where mistakes are made and forgiven. Where love doesn't have to be perfect to be real.
Tomorrow will bring new challenges. My mother will still have opinions. The media will still want pieces of us. Money will still complicate everything. But tonight, in this moment, none of that matters.
What matters is that Arthur Dupree wore spandex for me. What matters is that I'm not trying to shrink myself to fit into someone else's life anymore.
I'm building a life that fits us all.
