Chapter 43 Lindsay
Chapter forty-three
Lindsay
My heart is pounding so hard I can barely hear the question over the roar of blood in my ears. Arthur Dupree—billionaire, father, my ex-boss turned husband—is standing in front of me in a knockoff Spider-Man costume, asking if we can try again. Make things real.
I don't answer him. I don't weigh the question or analyze the risk or think about headlines or money or contracts or how this could go wrong.
I step forward and kiss him.
It's not dramatic. No sweep. No fireworks. Just my hands fisting in the ridiculous fabric of his superhero suit and my mouth finding his.
He freezes for half a second, stunned.
Then he kisses me back. When I pull away, I'm laughing and breathless and absolutely certain.
Arthur blinks at me. "That's... a yes?" he asks carefully. "Because I do better with written language."
I laugh, pressing my forehead to his chest. "Yes. Capital Y. No footnotes."
He exhales like something heavy finally loosened. "Good."
Henry lets out a dramatic sigh beside us. "Finally."
Arthur shoots him a look. "You orchestrated this."
"I just provided location data." Henry shrugs. Then his face lights up. "Oh. I almost forgot."
Henry pulls a small black box from his backpack. Inside is a ring with the largest cubic zirconium diamond I've ever seen.
He hands it to Arthur. "She needs a ring to match her 'bling'."
I laugh as Arthur presents it to me.
Quinn claps once. "I love a successful operation," she says, and then mercifully peels away to give us space.
A small crowd has gathered around us—not because we're famous, but because someone in a Spider-Man costume having an emotional moment with a human disco ball is exactly the kind of content CAMICon thrives on. I don't care. Let them watch.
"I'm sorry," Arthur says quietly, his hand coming up to cup my face. "For everything I said. For letting you walk away."
"I'm sorry too," I reply. "For not keeping Henry safe. For leaving."
"I see you have security now. Henry is still safe. And you protected him when he ran away." He swallows. "You also had every right to leave with how I treated and limited you."
I shake my head. "I still shouldn't have."
Henry tugs at my sequined sleeve. "So you're coming home, right?"
Home. The word fills my chest with something warm and steady. Not the apartment I left behind. Not the house I was trying to fit into. Just wherever these two are.
"Yes," I tell him. "I'm coming home."
The moment breaks when someone bumps into Arthur, sending him stumbling into me with a grunt. The spell of reunion isn't shattered—just shifted. Returned to the reality of where we are: a convention center packed with fans, cosplayers, and the steady thrum of excitement.
"Maybe we should get out of here," I suggest.
Arthur nods, looking relieved. "Please."
We're walking out together when Henry slows. Jenny is standing near the exit, holding a poster tube, looking just as awkward as he does. Introductions happen badly. Polite nods. Too much eye contact. Not enough words. Jenny looks at Arthur, then at me, then back at Henry.
"Your dad is... cool," she says finally.
Henry lights up like he just won a medal. She waves once and disappears into the crowd, leaving Henry visibly buoyed, shoulders higher, grin firmly back in place.
"Hey, Dad, can I stay for a while?" Henry looks up longingly.
Arthur looks to Steve. Steve answers, "I will take care of Henry. Sorry, I mean, I will take care of Blue Hanging Light Boy."
"Great. Take a couple of the security team with you."
"Very good, sir."
"Yes!" Henry jumps. "Thank you, Dad!" He is already turning around and following after Jenny.
***
The drive home is quiet in the good way. Arthur's hand finds mine like it belongs there.
"Are you sure?" I ask softly, the question slipping out now that everything feels possible again. "About me."
He doesn't hesitate. "More sure than I was about that merger last year."
I snort. "That's not exactly romantic."
"It's devastatingly sincere," he replies.
I squeeze his hand. "Okay. But this time—no takesy-backsies."
He smiles, slow and certain. "More like takes-you-backsies."
Back at the house, nothing looks different.
My boxes are still there. My sparkly clothes still hanging exactly where they were.
My shoes still lined up like they're waiting for me to decide something.
But it feels different. Warmer. Claimed.
Arthur watches me take it in, uncertainty flickering just once.
I turn to him and smile.
"I'm not going anywhere."
Arthur kisses my temple, and wraps his arms around me. "You did agree to be my wife."
"For real this time."
"Forever."
***
Later, when Henry's asleep and the house has settled into its nighttime rhythm, Arthur and I sit on the couch with mugs of tea that neither of us are drinking. There's still so much to say. So much to rebuild. But the silence between us doesn't feel dangerous anymore.
"I need you to know something," Arthur says finally. His voice is quiet but certain. "When I said those things to you—I was trying to protect myself."
I look up.
"I know," I reply. "Fear makes us say stupid things."
"Not just fear," he admits. "Control. I've spent my entire adult life building systems that don't fail. When something doesn't fit neatly into that structure—"
"Like me," I interject.
He nods. "Like you. I panic. I remove the variable. I restore order." His hand finds mine on the couch between us.
I think about the last few days. About waking up alone. About how I kept reaching for my phone even when I knew he wouldn't call.
"We can't do that again," I say. "Either of us. We can't just go silent, stop communicating, walk away."
"Agreed."
Arthur is quiet for a moment.
“We need to decide how this works,” he says. “Not just emotionally.”
He hesitates. “Henry. The house. I don’t want to make those calls alone anymore.”
I nod. “Then we make them together.”
His hand tightens around mine. “Okay.”
I set my mug down and turn toward him fully. "I meant what I said before. I'm not going anywhere. But that doesn't mean I'm always going to fit into your careful plans. I'm still going to wear sparkly hoodies and buy ridiculous handbags and take Henry to conventions."
Arthur's expression softens. "I wouldn't want you any other way."
"Even in public?"
"Especially in public." He squeezes my hand. "Lindsay, the problem was never your sparkle. I don't want to change who you are. I love you. I just didn't know how I fit in your shiny world."
I lean into him then, my head finding the space between his shoulder and neck that seems made for this exact purpose. His arm comes around me automatically, steady and warm.
"So what happens now?" I ask.
Arthur is quiet for a moment. "Now," he says slowly, "we figure out how to be a family."
The word lands gently. Not a demand. Not an expectation. Just a possibility we're both choosing to believe in.
"I'd like that," I whisper.
We sit like that for a while longer, not talking, just being. The house around us feels different than it did before I left—less like a museum and more like a place where real people live. Where mistakes are made and forgiven. Where love doesn't have to be perfect to be real.
Tomorrow will bring new challenges. My mother will still have opinions. The media will still want pieces of us. Money will still complicate everything. But tonight, in this moment, none of that matters.
What matters is that Arthur Dupree wore spandex for me. What matters is that I'm not trying to shrink myself to fit into someone else's life anymore.
I'm building a life that fits us all.