Page 72 of The Space He Left
Jack
Standing in our kitchen at seven AM, watching my wife make pancakes for Emma's third birthday breakfast while our daughter practiced her rambling butterfly dance in the living room, I thought about the very long road that had brought us here.
The year after Emma's first birthday had been the hardest. Weekly family dinners that felt like auditions. Longer visits that started tentatively but gradually became full-day trips and overnight stays as Harper saw I was consistent and reliable. Harper watching my every move, looking for signs that I might revert to the man who'd abandoned her for Madison. Countless therapy sessions - both as a couple and mine with Dr. Cox when I needed them. I'd earned back her friendship first, then her respect, and finally – carefully, slowly – her willingness to try living together again after Emma’s second birthday.
As the coffee brewed, filling the kitchen with its familiar, comforting scent, I leaned against the counter and just watched her. Those first six months after I moved back in were some ofthe most profound and painful of my life. Every morning I woke up in that house felt like a miracle. Every night I walked past her closed bedroom door to my own felt like a fresh failure. It was heaven and hell, separated by ten feet of hallway.
Six months of sharing morning coffee and bedtime routines with Emma, of family dinners and movie nights on the couch that ended with a chaste goodnight at Harper’s bedroom door. Six months of watching Harper pad around the kitchen in the mornings wearing nothing but one of my old t-shirts and sleep shorts, which gradually led to make-out sessions on the couch after Emma was asleep that left us both breathless and wanting more.
Six months of being the most frustrated and grateful man alive.
The night she’d finally invited me back into our bedroom was seared into my memory. It had been a random Tuesday, after Emma had been particularly clingy and Harper and I had spent an hour tag-teaming stories and lullabies.
"She just wants both her parents close," Harper had said as we'd finally gotten her settled.
"She's not the only one," I'd replied, my voice rough, and something in her expression had shifted.
"Jack?" she'd whispered.
"Yeah?"
"I'm ready," she'd said. "I'm ready for you to come home completely."
That night was about more than physical intimacy; it was Harper, in an act of breathtaking courage, finally feeling safe enough to let me all the way back in. It was the moment we stopped being just co-parents who happened to live in the same house and chose to become lovers again, closing the last ten feet of distance between us for good.
"You're thinking about something," Harper said, her voice soft, pulling me from my memories as she flipped Emma's pancakes into butterfly shapes.
"Just remembering how hard you made me work to earn my way back into this family."
"Was I too hard on you?" The question was casual, but I could hear the underlying concern. Even now, Harper sometimes worried that her caution had been excessive.
"God, no. Harps, you were as careful as you needed to be." I moved behind her, resting my hands on her shoulders and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "You made me prove I'd really changed. That was the best thing you could have done for all of us."
"Daddy! Come see my sparkly wings!" Emma called from the living room, spinning in her purple dress with its attached butterfly wings.
"Gorgeous!" I called back as I watched her. "You look just like a real butterfly!"
"The most beautiful butterfly in all of Willowbrook," Harper added, and Emma giggled with delight.
"She's going to remember this birthday forever," I said, watching Emma practice her butterfly dance with the confidence of a child who knew she was completely loved, even if her dance moves were all over the place.
"She'll remember that both her parents made it special for her," Harper said. "That's what matters."
We’d had two years of family birthday parties, family dinners, family everything. Two years of proving that I could put Emma and Harper first, that I could be the husband and father they deserved. Two years of Harper watching me navigate crisis after crisis at work without once being tempted to abandon my family to play hero somewhere else.
Because there had been crises. Mrs. Patterson's kitchen renovation had gone sideways when we'd discovered structural problems. The Johnson family had needed emergency repairs after a tree fell on their roof during a storm. Sam had gone through a rough patch with his own relationship and needed someone to talk to.
But every time, I'd handled it as a businessman and friend, not as a rescuer. I'd referred the Pattersons to a structural engineer instead of trying to fix it myself. I'd sent my crew to handle the Johnson emergency while I stayed home for Emma's school play. I'd listened to Sam over coffee at the bar instead of dropping everything to manage his love life.
Harper had been watching. Testing. Making sure that my promises about putting family first weren't just words.
Emma was too young to remember what had happened between her parents in those first few years of her life, but we'd agreed to tell her the truth when she was old enough to understand. Initially, Harper had wanted to just forget about it, to never mention Madison or my mistakes to Emma. But I'd convinced her that our story could be a teaching moment – so Emma would know what behaviors to never accept from a man she was dating. Not that she'd be dating until she was at least thirty, if I had anything to say about it.
"Jack," she said now, interrupting my thoughts again. "You're doing it again. The thousand-yard stare."
"Sorry. Just thinking about how different things are now compared to her first birthday."
"You were always capable of being this man. You just needed to choose to be him."
