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“Or maybe you’re tired of pretending not to think about it,” Penelope replies. “You needhelp.”
It’s like a punch to the gut. She’s right, I realize. But it’s too late for that—too late for me, really.
“Maybe. Maybe I need help. But that’s not the time to become a father to a child in need of stability and balance and love. And you know it,” I finish.
She stares at me, through me, for a long time. After what feels like an eternity, she says, “I’m so sorry you had to go through what you went through, Ethan.”
Just hearing her say those words nearly sends me over the edge. It means so much coming from her. Still, I fight the urge to bring her close, to try and heal one another with soft-spoken words.
I nod but say nothing. It’s not going to happen. I’ve made my decision. “Thank you. You’ll be relieved from your position immediately after the agency comes to pick her up. I’ll be paying for the full four months despite the job coming to termination. That should be more than enoughto—”
“Take away your guilt. Fine then, do what you need to do,” she interrupts, her gaze burning a hole into mysoul.
And then she turns and walks away fromme.