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Max’s posture relaxes. “Amazing. I didn’t realize how much angst I had about it. When I told him I quit, I felt free.”
“How did he take it?”
“As well as you can expect.” Silence grows between us. I’m not sure if he’s still mad at me or if he’s here to see Olive.
“Is this a quick visit, or—” I ask. I hold my breath as I wait for his answer.
“For now. I brought some stuff.” He points to a pile of luggage, more than needed for a simple stay. I didn’t see it when I approached him at first. “I still have to sell my condo and wrap up some things in San Diego. But you’re here, and Olive is here. I want to be wherever you are.”
“You do? I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner about Fred—”
His hand comes to my arm and his touch sends warmth toward my fingertips. “It’s fine, Em. You were only twenty—”
“Still, I should’ve told you earlier this week instead of letting you think that I didn’t want you. Because I did. Are you mad I took the money?”
“No,” he says with a shake of a head. “If anything, I’m mad you didn’t ask for more.”
Gripping his biceps, I say, “I wanted you so badly it hurt. When she was born, she looked so much like you, and I felt…haunted.”
“I’m here now. No more ghosts.” He pulls me into his arms and I hug him—I really hug him, smelling his cologne on his skin, feeling his hard chest through his shirt. Max clings to me like I will float away.
When we pull away, he leans in and kisses me, deep and hungry. The world goes away, just for a little bit, and it’s just me and him. Max and Emily.
When we pull away from each other, breathless and panting, I hear an audible “Gross” from behind me.
“Mom, why do you have to kiss Dad like that? I mean, in public.”
Max’s chin drops, and he presses our foreheads together. He sniffles.
“Was that the first time she’s called you Dad?”
Max nods, a big grin across his face. “I got my wish.”
I kiss him again, and Olive groans.
“You’re going to have to get used to it, kid,” I say. My daughter rolls her eyes. My parents stand behind my daughter, holding it together, but I know they’re going to cry about it later.
“Hi, I’m Kit Finch, Emily’s mom.” Mom reaches around Olive to shakes Max’s hand.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Max says. “Truly.”
“Randy Finch, Emily’s dad,” my dad says, shaking his hand as well. “Do you want to join us for lunch?”
“I would love to. Is there somewhere we can put my stuff, by chance?”
“Come on,” Dad says, waving him over to his Suburban, parked in an angled spot in front of Betty’s. “We’ll put it in the trunk.”
“Hey, Olive,” Max says, walking toward our daughter.
“Dad,” she says, looking up at him.
Max crouches down, his knee hitting the sidewalk. He looks up at her. “I just want you to know I’ll never leave you again.”
Olive studies him and then whispers, “Promise?”
Max offers his pinkie. Olive smiles and outstretches her own, hooking pinkies with her father. Mom is full-on crying watching this, and her crying makes me cry. Olive hugs him around the neck.
When she pulls away, she slips her hand in Max’s.
