Amelia finally laughed.
“No crown, idiot.”
“Did Dad cry?”
Within 10 minutes she was back in pajamas, stealing fries from her sister’s plate while she yelled that Amelia had her own.
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The candle sat on the kitchen table.
I picked it up.
“Where do you want this?”
Amelia thought for a moment, then pointed toward the windowsill.
“There.”
“Where do you want this?”
I set it down.
Not lit.
Not thrown away.
Just where she had chosen.
My phone buzzed.
Ryan.
I expected anger.
Instead, his message said:
“Tell Amelia I’m sorry I made her feel like she had to prove she was okay.”
Then another arrived.
“Tell Amelia I’m sorry I made her feel like she had to prove she was okay.”
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“And Annie… I think I’ve spent a long time asking everyone else to be okay with choices I made.”
I read it twice.
Then locked my phone.
I didn’t owe him an answer.
Across the kitchen, Amelia snatched another fry.
“AMELIA!”
“They were on my side, Kelly!”
I didn’t owe him an answer.
I laughed before I could stop myself.
Four children argued around my table while that tiny wedding candle sat unnoticed on the windowsill.
Ryan had changed the shape of our family.
He had never earned the right to decide whether it still existed.
