Page 184 of Reeves

"I know you do." I watch a moth circle the porch light. “It will be good for him.”

The line is quiet for a beat. “Thank you, Charli. I know this is a lot, and it’s all happening so fast.”

“He talks about you a lot. You being closer will be a good thing.”

As I say this, my shoulders drop. It’s true, but it’s also bittersweet.

"What does he talk about?”

“He asks when you're coming back. Whether you've caught any pirates lately." I pause. "He drew a picture of your Hummer last week and put it on the refrigerator."

Reeves doesn't say anything to that, and I don't push him to. Some things don't need a response.

"I've been thinking," he says finally, "about what makes sense once I'm back. Not jumping straight into something big. Just timewith him. Regular, consistent time so he knows he can count on it."

"That's the right instinct," I say.

"If there's a break coming up from school, I could try to plan my time after I get back and before I go back to Virginia to close out. Just the two of us." He stops. "Nothing crazy. I just want him to have something to look forward to that's ours."

I turn that over for a moment.

“If you’re about six weeks out, that might work out, then. He was just off, so break after next could line up.”

"Yeah. I checked the school calendar." A beat. "I hope that's okay."

The fact that he checked instead of just assuming lands the right way. I file that away without commenting on it.

"He's never been away from me for more than a night," I say. "Sleepovers with my parents, that's the extent of it. I don't know how he'd handle more than that."

"Then we start with a night," Reeves says. "See how he does."

"Maybe two," I say. "If the first one goes well. But I'd want to know what you're thinking before we commit to anything. What you're planning, where you're going, how to reach you."

"Of course." No hesitation. "You tell me what you need from me on that, and I'll make it happen."

I nod even though he can't see it.

This is the part I've been working out in my head for five weeks. Not whether to let him in, because that was never really a question once I got honest with myself about it. Benjy deserves to know his father. Reeves is showing up. Those two facts don't leave a lot of room for my own complicated feelings to run the decision.

The question has always been how. How to do this in a way that protects Benjy if something goes sideways. How to buildsomething real instead of something that looks good for a few weeks and then falls apart when the logistics get hard.

"We're not telling him yet," I remind him. "Not until you're back and settled and we both agree the time is right."

"I know. That's your call. I’m totally fine with that.”

"It's both of ours," I say. "But I'll take the lead on it."

"Okay," he says. Simple and clean.

The moth is still working the porch light, bumping against the glass in small, persistent arcs. I watch it for a moment.

"He's a tender boy, Reeves. We have to always protect that about him.”

"I know he is." His voice shifts slightly, quieter. "You did that."

I don't argue with it or deflect it. I let it sit there, because it's true and I've earned it. For once, I'm not going to talk myself out of accepting it.

"Send me your schedule when you have it," I say. "And when you know what you're thinking for the trip, send me that too. We'll talk through it before anything gets decided."