Chapter 8 - GRACE LEFT
Three months later, Grace resigned.
I reacted exactly as badly as expected.
“No.”
She stared.
I closed my eyes.
“Again.”
“Yes.”
I sat.
“Why?”
“Noah is doing better.”
He was.
Therapist.
Routine.
More time with me.
I had reduced travel.
Learned breakfast.
Badly.
Learned preschool pickup.
Discovered three-year-olds ask questions no board has prepared you for.
Grace continued:
“And I got accepted.”
“Where?”
“Early childhood development program.”
She had started college years earlier.
Stopped after her father died.
Needed work.
Then Noah happened.
“You want to leave childcare?”
“No.”
“I want to understand it better.”
That sounded exactly like Grace.
“Stay here while you study.”
“No.”
I nodded.
Did not ask again.
She noticed.
“That was fast.”
“I’m suffering internally.”
She smiled.
Then became serious.
“I also need to know who I am outside this house.”
That hurt.
Fair.
“And Noah?”
“He gets me in his life.”
Hope.
“Not as an employee.”
Better.
“He gets to know I left the job without leaving him.”
Important.
We told him together.
Noah cried.
Then asked:
“You come tomorrow?”
Grace said:
“Yes.”
“Next day?”
“Yes.”
“Forever?”
Grace looked at me.
Then at him.
“I can’t promise forever.”
No lies.
“But I can promise I won’t disappear without telling you.”
Noah thought.
Then held out his pinky.
She hooked hers.
Deal.
On Grace’s last day, I carried her bags to her car.
She laughed.
“The great Adrian Vale carries luggage?”
“Apparently.”
“Careful. Reputation.”
“Ruined.”
She looked at me.
Something passed between us.
I wanted to kiss her.
Didn’t.
Good.
She was still leaving my employment.
Boundaries matter most when inconvenient.
“Goodbye, Adrian.”
“Dinner sometime?”
She raised an eyebrow.
“Not yet.”
Fair.
“Not yet.”
I let her drive away.
No security tail.
No tracking.
No order to return.
Noah and I stood at the gate.
He held my hand.
“Daddy sad?”
“Yes.”
He nodded.
“Dance helps.”
Claire would have laughed.
So Grace had taught him that.
May you like
That night, my three-year-old son made Miami’s most feared man dance badly in the kitchen.
Again.
