24. Millie #2
Near the door, Mae and Rupert are guiding Vivienne out. She's leaning on Rupert, exhausted, hollowed out. She looks ten years younger than she is. Rupert has his arm around both of them.
Mae looks back at us from the doorway. Joseph catches her eye and nods. Go. She nods back. Her face is a mix of worry and something else. Trust. That her son will handle what's left.
And then they're gone.
The apartment is quiet. Joseph is still holding me. His breath comes ragged and uneven against my hair.
We stand there for a long time, the last of the daylight pulling thin through the window, neither of us letting go.
I'm on the couch, Tofu beside me, finally calm with her head on my lap. Joseph is in the kitchen on the phone with his parents. I can hear his voice but not the words, just the tone, low and serious, with a few short replies and one long pause.
He hangs up and comes into the living room. "Vivienne checked into a treatment center," he says. "Voluntarily. She told Mom on the car ride that she needs real help this time."
I nod.
He sits on the coffee table in front of me, close enough that his knees almost touch mine.
His eyes are red and still full of something heavy, and he's looking at me like he's been holding words in his chest for days.
His hands hang between his knees, restless, like he doesn't know what to do with them now that he's here.
"Look, Millie. I don't know where to begin.
" He runs his hands down his face, then forces himself to meet my eyes.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I knew what I did was wrong.
" He swallows hard. "I would never do anything like that.
I've never done anything like that, and I'd never do it again.
But when Vivienne called me that night, panicking, begging me to help her, I just couldn't say no. "
He's quiet for a second.
"And when she got First Chair, she stabilized.
The music held her together. And for a while, I told myself I did the right thing.
" He shakes his head, slow, at the version of himself who believed it.
"But that was a lie I kept telling myself.
That it was fine. That it worked out. Until it all caught up, and here we are. "
His shoulders drop. "I should have known better.
I should have found another way to help her.
Talked to her. Got her proper help instead of just agreeing to everything she asked.
I took the easy way out, and it wasn't even easy.
It was just fast." His eyes find mine again, less certain. "I'm so sorry, Millie."
He reaches for my hand carefully, like he's not sure I'll let him.
I don't pull away. His fingers close around mine, and his grip is shaky, not steady like it usually is.
Joseph is always sure, always in control.
He makes jokes to lighten the mood. But right now he's sitting in front of me with red eyes and trembling hands, and he looks lost.
It almost hurts more than what he did.
"I know I don't deserve anything right now," he says, his voice rough. His thumb moves once across the back of my hand under mine, as if to ground himself. "But I need you to know that I love you, Millie. I love you, and I'm so sorry that what I did to save my sister is what hurt you."
His fingers press tighter into mine, like he's steadying for the rest. "And if you don't want to be with me anymore, I get it.
I understand." He stops and swallows hard.
When he speaks again, his voice is barely a whisper.
"But please. Let me be in our son's life.
Whatever you decide about us, please let me be his dad. "
The way he says it lands as pure asking, like it's the one thing he's most afraid of losing and he needs me to know that before I decide anything else.
I reach for my phone. I type for a long time. He waits.
I turn the screen toward him.
I can't say I wasn't hurt. Because I was.
I am. But I don't blame you entirely. When I saw Vivienne today, she was like a different person.
I didn't recognize her. I was terrified, but not for me.
For her. And I kept thinking about what you must have gone through growing up.
Trying to protect her. Trying to keep her safe.
You've always been like that. Protective.
Thoughtful. Even with me, back when you barely knew me.
It's who you are, Joseph. It's one of the things I love about you.
He reads it. The worry drains out slowly, like water finding a way through a crack, and relief floods in behind it. And then he's smiling, barely, but it's there. The first real one I've seen from him in days.
"You love me?" he asks, as if unsure he read it right.
I nod. I sign to him and mouth the words, "I love you, Jo."
He leans forward, takes my face in his hands, and kisses me.
The kiss is soft and slow and careful, as if I might dissolve under his hands.
It tastes like relief, like a breath he's been holding for days finally letting go.
Then he presses his forehead against mine, and his exhale shakes against my skin.
"I love you, Millie. So damn much."
I smile. And for the first time in days, I let myself relax against him.