Page 66 of Buttons

Once I finish the pasta, I clean my plate and settle down for the night, drinking a glass of whiskey in the kitchen. My grandfather used to do the same thing every night, and I guess it stuck, though I don’t do it nightly.

Today at the shelter, I saw Elowen as she truly is. She’s free and herself. No longer an accessory to Julian Plaza’s success, she’s vibrant. For years, I stilted her and never actually processed how much so. But it’s obvious that she outshines me.

I loved the way she knelt beside Leo to help him approach a frightened cat, her voice gentle but not condescending. I loved how she let Meredith take charge of the toy display, encouraging her leadership rather than correcting her haphazard organization. I loved watching her move through that space, taking control and being so confident doing it her way. Most surprising of all, I felt proud of her. Genuinely proud. I’m proud of the type of business she’s building, of the respect she’s earned, of the person she’s becoming without me, and I’m proud of her surviving me. Rather than feel threatened by her independence, I’m in awe.

I pour another finger of whiskey but don’t drink it immediately. Instead, I hold the glass up to the light, watching how the amber liquid catches and transforms it.

“To Elowen,” I say aloud to the empty kitchen. “May she never again dim her light for anyone, especially not for me.”

I drink to that promise, letting the whiskey warm me from the inside. All this time, I should have been protectingwhoshe is.

Chapter 28

Julian

For the next two weeks, I volunteer at the shelter when I can. Unfortunately, volunteering means actually working, which means I haven’t gotten to actually sit down with my family to have a serious conversation. So, missing my family so much that it feels like I’m physically dying, I ask them to meet me after work. Thankfully, Elowen agrees. The children sound pretty excited about it on the phone, too.

It’s not lost on me how lucky I am that they’re not older. Nine and seven are still full of life and happiness; and had Leo and Meredith been brooding teenagers with a nasty streak of grudge-holding, my presence in their life might have looked different. Meaning, they might not have forgiven me.

For two weeks, I hauled bags of cat litter and folded adoption forms. The kids watched with a mixture of pride and confusion, witnessing their corporate titan father performmenial labor. Every time I came in, Sarah assigned me the most mind-numbing tasks with suspicious glee, clearly testing my commitment. I’d performed each one without complaint, watching Elowen from the corner of my eye as she moved through the shelter with increasing confidence, her hair curling freely in the summer humidity.

The park comes into view, a splash of green amid the suburban streets. It’s not one of those designer playgrounds with artificial turf and safety-certified everything; this is old-school. It has metal slides that scorch in summer and woodchips that get everywhere. I slow the car, scanning the parking lot for Elowen’s SUV.

There it is, parked at the far end, away from the other cars. Isolation through choice, not circumstance. I pull in three spaces away, giving them breathing room to freely swing their car doors as wide as they want.

Once I put the car into park,my hand hesitates on the door handle. I can still see them near the swings. Leo stands with a rigid posture while Meredith bounces on her toes. Between them stands Elowen in her protective stance.

They don’t see me yet, because they’re facing inward, but their body language speaks volumes. Leo’s fingers are twisting the hem of his shirt, a self-soothing habit I used to discourage, Meredith scans the parking lot with barely contained impatience, and Elowen’s hand rests lightly on each child’s shoulder, the touch simultaneously reassuring and claiming. This is what a family looks like without me, and the realization makes my chest ache.

I take a deep breath and step out of the car. The summer heat hits me immediately, even though I’m wearing khakis and a polo shirt. It’s my attempt at casual that still looks too corporate for a playground.

Meredith spots me first. She begins waving wildly, face breaking into a smile. “Daddy!” The word carries across the playground, causing a few parents to glance our way. I wave back. Elowen turns more slowly, her expression carefully neutral. Leo’s reaction falls somewhere between his sister’s enthusiasm and his mother’s caution. As I approach, the triangle reconfigures. Elowen steps back slightly, giving me space to join them, but the children remain close to her sides.

“Hi,” I say when I reach them. Up close, I can see that Elowen has new freckles across her nose from time spent outside, likely at the shelter. Leo’s hair is longer, curling slightly at the ends like his mother’s. Meredith has a scrape on one knee and dirt under her fingernails. I don’t notice them as a means of critique, but as a means of observation.

“I appreciate you meeting me,” I say. “I was wondering, would it be alright if I spoke with the children? Together, I mean. There are some things I’d like to say.”

Elowen’s eyes narrow slightly, assessing. I see the calculations happening behind her gaze. She’s weighing potential harm against potential healing. Finally, she nods. “That would be fine.” She steps back further, giving us space while remaining within earshot.

I look down at my children, and my throat constricts. They deserve so much better than what I’ve given them. Thinking I found a completely clean spot, I start to lower myself to one knee, but then spot a worm only a few inches away, so I adjust to sitting on my heels.

“Hi,” I say again, feeling impossibly inadequate. “There are some important things I want to tell you both.”

“Are we in trouble?” Leo asks, his voice small.

The question pierces me. How many times have I summoned them for “talks” that were really thinly veiled criticisms? Howoften have I pointed out their imperfections under the guise of helpful guidance?

“No,” I say firmly. “No one’s in trouble, especially not you two.”

Meredith tilts her head, studying me with her mother’s perceptiveness. “Then why do you look so serious?”

Trust Meredith to cut through pretense. “Because what I need to say is serious.”

I take a deep breath, gathering courage. The words I need are raw and pulled from a place I’ve kept carefully guarded for years. Saying them makes me feel weak, but I should have said them a long time ago.

“I wanted to apologize to both of you,” I begin, the words feeling clumsy in my mouth. “For disrupting your lives and making changes that weren’t fair to you.”

Leo’s eyes widen slightly. “It’s okay,” he says automatically.