"You're right. I told myself I was protecting you from a hard choice. What I was actually doing was protecting myself from your no. And from the possibility that you'd look at me the way you're looking at me now." He rubbed his beard. "I don't know how to rebuild that. But I want to. If you'll let me try."
"I don't know how either," Aaliyah said. "I know we need help that isn't just us circling each other in this house. I made an appointment with a counselor downtown. Thursday at six. Her name is Denise Okonkwo. She comes recommended by Priya, who does not ask questions twice." She met his eyes. "You will be there. And you will tell her the truth the first time, not the version you edited for two years."
"I'll be there."
"And Ruth," Aaliyah said, and the name still felt strange in her mouth, like a food she had sworn off and was tasting again against her will. "I am not ready for Sunday dinners. I am not ready for her key on our ring. I might never be ready for that. But I am considering supervised time. With me present. Once every two weeks. At the park, or here, or at Evelyn's—Evelyn gets a veto, by the way, because she raised me when Ruth couldn't and she has earned a say." She exhaled. "Elias already loves her. Taking that away now would be punishing him for our failures. I won't do that. But I also won't pretend the last two years didn't happen."
Marcus's eyes had gone bright. He nodded, once, carefully, as if too much movement might scare the offer away.
"There's one more thing," Aaliyah said. "The cardigan stays in the closet for now. When she comes—if she comes—she can wear it or not wear it. But Elias doesn't play dress-up in her clothes again until I say so. He can be fancy in his own ways."
"Understood."