Simone nodded.
"I deserved that."
Then Sophia crossed the remaining distance and wrapped her arms around her mother.
Carefully at first.
Then tightly.
Simone held her daughter.
Nineteen years of missed dinners, forgotten drawings, delayed conversations, postponed affection, and carefully hidden need existed inside that embrace.
None of it disappeared.
But for the first time, they were facing it together.
Richard turned toward the window.
Boston harbor lights shimmered beyond the glass.
He gave them privacy.
Later, the corridor emptied.
Douglas went home.
Preston disappeared to send approximately one thousand emails.
Sophia stayed with her mother.
Richard stood near the east-facing window.
Simone approached.
"I need to tell you something."
Richard looked at her.
"That sentence has caused me problems recently."
She smiled.
"This one may too."
He waited.
Simone looked through the glass.
"When you sang that first night..."
Richard became still.
"You didn't know me."
"No."
"You thought I couldn't hear you."
"Correct."
"You had no reason to impress me."
Richard looked down.
"I definitely wasn't impressive."
She smiled.
"Richard."
He looked at her.
"No one in my adult life has ever stayed without wanting something."
Her eyes shone.
"Not once."
Richard said nothing.
"I fell in love with you while I couldn't open my eyes."
The words settled between them.
Richard looked toward the harbor.
Simone continued.
"Not because you saved me."
A pause.
"Not because you sang."
She shook her head.
"I fell in love with the person you were when you thought nobody important was watching."
Richard breathed slowly.
"Simone."
"You don't have to say anything."
"I do."
He looked at her.
"I've been alone a long time."
His voice softened.
"Longer than Olivia and Oliver know."
Simone reached for his hand.
Richard looked down.
Her fingers folded around his.
He let them.
Their relationship did not become easy overnight.
Real relationships rarely do.
Simone had spent twenty years organizing life like a corporation.
Richard had spent three years protecting two children from instability.
He did not introduce Simone to Olivia and Oliver as anything more than a friend for several weeks.
Olivia recognized the truth immediately.
Eight-year-olds often do.
"So you're the sleeping lady."
Simone nearly dropped her coffee.
Richard stared at his daughter.
"Olivia."
"What?"
Olivia pointed.
"She's the lady from my drawing."
Simone smiled.
"I am."
Olivia studied her carefully.
"Did you like the stars?"
"I loved them."
"Good."
Olivia returned to coloring.
"You can stay."
Richard closed his eyes.
Simone whispered, "I've survived board negotiations less intense than that."
Oliver took longer.
He mostly wanted to know whether Simone liked dinosaurs.
She admitted she knew very little about them.