Epilogue
Clara
A year later, Clara still expected to see the old Alexander walk in the front door periodically.
The man who was never on time.
The man turned away.
The man who valued his phone more than his family.
The man who could go into a room, stare her straight in the eye and still somehow make her feel absolutely invisible.
But then the front door swung open.
Clara looked at the clock.
6:02 p.m
Right when you need it.
She grinned.
Alexander entered, loosening his tie as he came into the foyer. He had his jacket rolled up at the sleeves and slung over one arm.
And his mobile phone?
Still in his pockets.
Not in his hand.
And just the thought of that clenched Clara’s heart.
“Daddy!
Noah raced down the hall.
Alexander had little time to remove his jacket before his son threw himself into his arms.
“Whoa.”
Alexander caught him easily, laughing.
“You’re getting heavy, buddy.
"No, I am not."
“Damn sure you are.”
“Nooooo!
Clara laughed in the kitchen.
"You're making a monster."
Alexander glanced over Noah's shoulder.
At once his eyes met hers.
They always did, now.
"Your monster," he said.
“Our monster.”
Noah grumbled.
“Will you two just stop?”
“Clara lifted an eyebrow.
“What?”
I said you are embarrassing yourself.
Alexander smiled.
Seven years old. “You have to be legally embarrassed by your parents.
Noah rolled his eyes.
Clara shook her head.
That.
This was what she had desired so passionately once that it had pained her.
A husband who returned home.
A father in attendance.
A family that didn't have to wonder if Alexander Vale would have time for them.
She watched him take Noah into the kitchen.
“How was school?”
Good.
"That's all?"
We ate pizza.
'Now you're talking.
I scored an A on my maths test.
Alexander halted his steps.
"You did?
Noah nodded, proud.
“A. A.”
His father bent down and squatted in front of him.
“I’m proud of you.”
Noah's smile could have illuminated the entire house.
Clara glanced away for a second.
Eyes that are burning.
Alexander saw.
He did, of course.
Always he noticed now.
He moved to the kitchen and stood in front of her.
“Hello.”
“Hello.”
“You alright?”
She gave a nod.
“Fine.”
His face softened.
“You’re doing that thing.
“What?”
"Playing like everything's okay when you're about to cry."
Clara laughed.
“Perhaps I cry because you're useful at last.”
He laid a hand across his heart.
“Damn, that’s nasty.
“You’ll be fine.”
Barely.
He bent forward.
She turned her face to him, instinctively.
His lips touched hers.
A tender kiss.
Identifiable.
Warm.
True.
And then he muttered, “I missed you.”
Clara grinned.
You've been gone eight hours.
“Longest eight hours of my life,”
“You’re dramatic.”
“Just for you.
She rolled her eyes, but her smile gave her away.
Alexander reached behind and pulled out a little paper bag.
“I’ve got you something.
Clara looked at it curiously.
“What did you get?”
“Nothing expensive.
That wasn't my query.
He chuckled.
"Open it," he said.
Inside was her favourite treat from the little bakery down town.
The one she had mentioned just one time.
Months ago.
Clara looked at it.
“You remember?
Alexander seemed almost affronted.
Now I remembered everything.
She swallowed hard.
He did. Yes, he did.
Her order of coffee.
Her favourite pastry.
The music she played while she was glad.
The one she played when she was low.
Noah’s Football Schedule
The day they met.
The day of their marriage.
Even the anniversary he thought he had forgotten.
He hadn't.
This year he had surprised her before daybreak.
No ballrooms.
No cameras.
No billion-dollar showing.
Just breakfast in their kitchen.
Blossoms.
A note in someone's handwriting.
And Alexander, sitting across from her, was clutching her hand.
I would choose you all over again.
Every single time.
Clara had cried then as well.
She gazed around the kitchen now.
Their kitchen.
Not the vast frigid mansion where she had previously been a visitor.
The house was smaller.
More hot.
It was full of Noah's shoes, school papers, pictures, laughter, and the odd toy left in the most inconvenient location possible.
It wasn't the best.
It was their own.
That was all.
Alexander wrapped an arm around her waist.
What are you thinking about?
Clara stared at him.
“I thought leaving you a year ago was the end of my marriage.
He waited.
“But it wasn’t.”
“No,” he answered.
“It was the start of something different.”
His eyes were on hers.
“Better?”
She smiled.
Much better."
He kissed her on the forehead.
“I love you, Clara,” he said.
The words still held power.
They scared her once.
She would have studied his face for proof, once.
Once, she would have worried about whether she was hearing what she wanted to hear.
Enough.
Clara raised her hand and caressed his cheek.
“I know.
His eyebrows flew up.
And I understand that?
She laughed.
“Don’t push your luck.
“That kiss took me a year to get.
“It took you six years to gain my distrust.
“Okay, fair.
She still kissed him.
Alexander pulled her to him.
Noah quickly put his eyes over.
“Seriously?
Clara laughed.
Alexander smiled against her mouth.
She was waiting. It wasn't the first time in years.
She didn't wonder.
She wasn't aiming to be excellent enough to be picked.
She had picked herself first.
And somehow that had also taught Alexander how to pick her.
Daily.
It was like any other morning.
Family dinners. All of them.
● All arguments.
All the kisses.
He arrived home.
Not because duty demanded it.
Not because a child brought them together.
Not because it was the reasonable thing to do.
He came home because the house was where he wanted to be.
With her.
With Noah.
With the family they almost lost.
Clara rested her head on his chest.
Alexander put his arms around her.
And for the first time, she realised something she should have realised long ago.
Returning to that marriage she had lost was not a second chance.
It was about making a new one.
A tougher one.
A bit more honest.
She loved someone who did not keep her waiting at the door.
Because at last the man she had waited for had learned something of value.
Home was not somewhere.
The woman he'd almost lost was home.
And now Alexander Vale was home to her every day.