Page 113 of Reeves

"What does that look like, Reeves?"

There’s no edge in her voice. That’s what makes it worse.

I open my mouth, then stop to choose my words carefully.

"I don’t know yet."

Her gaze drops to the table. She nods once, like she expected that.

"Okay. Thank you for being honest. We don’t tell him anything yet. Not until we figure that out."

I know what she means. She’s not asking anymore. She’s setting a boundary.

I don’t have answers for her. Not real ones. Not the kind she’s asking for.

"I should set up the couch," she says finally, standing. She collects our empty bottles and moves toward the door before I can even react. I guess that conversation will happen another day.

I follow her inside and watch her set the empty bottles on the table before pulling the full bag out of the trash can. I lean against the doorframe as she moves around the kitchen.

"I don't have an answer for you yet. Not about… all of that. But there's something else we should talk about." I break the silence.

She looks up, wariness flickering across her face. "What's that?"

"Support. I should have been helping financially all these years."

Charli's spine straightens. "Reeves, that's not what this is about. We don't need?—"

"I'm not questioning whether you need it, or if it’s part of whatever my role will be." I keep my voice level, matter-of-fact. "I'm saying you're entitled to it, and no matter what happens. I want to make that right."

She shakes her head. "Benjy and I have been managing fine. I built a stable life for us on my own."

"I know you did. That's not what I'm saying. This has nothing to do with what you can do. It’s what Ishoulddo.”

The words come easier than I expected. Maybe because I've been thinking about this since I saw her yesterday. Since I realized what I'd failed to do.

“I never wanted your money?”

“I know you didn’t. I’ve never felt like that with you. This isabout responsibility. He's my son, too. And you shouldn't have to shoulder all of it on your own, regardless of what my relationship with him looks like."

Charli crosses her arms. The defensive posture I remember from our worst fights in college. I didn't say it to create more tension. It needs to be said, and I'm not sure when the right time is.

"We're fine, Reeves. Really. That's the last thing I care about right now."

"What does fine cost?"

"What?"

"Daycare. Doctor visits. Clothes he outgrows every few months. All of it."

She blinks, clearly not expecting the question.

"I don't keep a running tally."

"Then give me your best guess."

Charli uncrosses her arms but doesn't relax. "Why does it matter? You're leaving in a few days."

There it is. That's the real issue. Not the money. The fact that I'm still planning to walk away.