She put it into my palm.
Neither of us closed my fingers around it.
“I still love you,” she said.
“I love you too.”
“That doesn’t solve this.”
“No.”
She kissed my cheek.
Then she got into the car.
I stood in the driveway until it turned the corner.
When I went back inside, Sophie was sitting on the stairs.
“Claire forgot her ring.”
I looked at my hand.
Children noticed everything.
“She didn’t forget it.”
“Why did she give it to you?”
I sat two steps below her.
“Because our plans changed.”
“Because of me?”
The speed of the question frightened me.
“No.”
She looked unconvinced.
I chose my words carefully.
“Something terrible happened to our family. Everybody is trying to figure out what their life looks like now.”
“Did she get mad?”
“No.”
“Did you?”
“A little.”
“At me?”
“No.”
“At her?”
“Not really.”
Sophie frowned.
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“No,” I said. “It really doesn’t.”
She leaned against the banister.
“Is she coming back?”
“I don’t know.”
She absorbed that.
Then she asked, “Are you?”
“I’m already here.”
“I mean if you go somewhere.”
I understood.
“Yes.”
It came out before fear could edit it.
“Yes. I come back.”
That Monday, I called my boss.
I had rehearsed the conversation badly.
I planned to sound professional.
Instead, when Mark asked how I was doing, I said, “I’m becoming guardian for my niece.”
He was silent.
Then, “Okay.”
“I need leave.”
“How much?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Daniel.”
“I know.”
He sighed.
“We can approve four weeks bereavement and family leave together. After that, we need a plan.”
“I understand.”
“You’re still scheduled to lead the Thornton bid.”
“I can’t.”
Another silence.
“That bid is part of your partnership case.”
“I know.”
“If you step off it—”
“I know.”
Mark stopped.
Then he said quietly, “I’m sorry about your brother.”
“Thank you.”
“We’ll cover what we can.”
It was not a miracle.
Nobody created a special executive position for me.