Chapter 9 - The Promise He Could Keep
Lily did not trust important announcements.
Important announcements usually meant changed schedules, worried adults, or somebody explaining why something pleasant could no longer happen.
So when Jenna sat beside her after dinner and said they needed to talk, Lily immediately asked whether they were moving.
“No.”
“Is Mrs. Alvarez sick?”
“No.”
“Did I forget a school paper?”
“Probably, but that’s not this conversation.”
Lily relaxed slightly.
Jenna took a breath.
“You know Vincent and I spend time together.”
“He comes to dinner.”
“Yes.”
“And he fixes the shelf badly.”
“He fixed it eventually.”
“Mrs. Alvarez fixed it eventually.”
Jenna smiled.
Then grew serious.
“I care about him. He cares about us. I want to know how you feel.”
Lily considered this.
“Is he going to be my dad?”
The question caught Jenna despite her preparation.
“He doesn’t have to be. Nobody gets to decide that for you.”
“My first dad left.”
“I know.”
“Would Vincent leave?”
Jenna’s throat tightened.
She refused to give her daughter a promise another adult would have to keep.
“I can’t tell you that nothing will ever change. But I can tell you that you get to ask questions, say when something feels wrong, and keep the people who make you feel safe.”
Lily leaned against her.
“Can we keep Mrs. Alvarez?”
“Absolutely.”
The following Saturday, Vincent came for pancakes.
Lily questioned him over syrup.
“Are you going to make Mommy stop working?”
He blinked.
“No.”
“Are you going to buy our building?”
Jenna coughed into her coffee.
“No.”
“Are you going to tell her what clothes to wear?”
Vincent glanced toward Jenna.
“Your mother knows considerably more about clothes than I do.”
Lily nodded.
This seemed sensible.
“Can you promise something?”
“I can try.”
“Knock before you come into my room.”
“Yes.”
“And don’t say yes if you’re going to forget.”
He set down his fork.
“If I forget, you can remind me. And I’ll apologize and do better.”
Lily studied him.
Then pushed the butter toward him.
“You can have the bunny pancake.”
It had one enormous ear and one tiny one.
Vincent accepted it as solemnly as any contract he had signed.
That spring, Jenna’s shop became busy.
Teachers brought uniforms.
Brides brought dresses.
Men who had once passed her in the hotel without seeing her now waited politely while she finished pinning hems.
She hired a part-time assistant.
Then a second.
She paid them properly.
She wrote down schedules.
She made sure emergencies did not become reasons to humiliate people.
Vincent continued treatment.
The severe attacks grew less frequent, though they never disappeared entirely.
He learned to recognize early symptoms and stop before pain became collapse.
Some days, he wore a sweater.
The first time Jenna saw him in one, she laughed.
“What?”
“Nothing. You look approachable.”
“Terrible news.”
“Devastating.”
He kissed her outside the shop beneath her own name.
She kissed him back.
Then, finally, she said it.
“I love you.”
He went still.
She touched his cheek.
“You heard me.”
“Yes.”
“Good. I’m not repeating it in the street while Mrs. Alvarez watches from that bakery window.”
He turned.
Mrs. Alvarez raised her coffee.
Vincent laughed.
Months later, he asked Jenna whether she would consider sharing a home.
Not his penthouse.
Not a house chosen before she knew it existed.
A place they could find together.
Jenna agreed to look.
Lily produced a list.
A bedroom window.
A tree.
A kitchen big enough for three people.
A bus stop nearby because Jenna refused to become dependent on a driver.
They found a brick house with a crooked garden gate.
It needed work.
Vincent looked at the peeling hallway paint.
Jenna looked at the sunny back room where she could sew sometimes.
Lily looked at the tree.
“Can we fix it?” she asked.
Vincent turned toward Jenna.
May you like
Together, they answered.
“Yes.”
