CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
NORA
Month Nine
My photography book launches with a line around the block.
The Work Between Moments contains one hundred and twelve images, twelve athlete essays, and an acknowledgments page with Rhett's portrait. Beneath it, I wrote:
For the people who learn that staying can mean stepping back, and leaving can be the beginning of return.
At the signing table, readers tell me which photographs mattered. A mother points to the image of repaired gloves. A young player asks whether Maja was really afraid in the storm.
"Yes," I say. "Courage usually is."
Halfway through the event, a man places a copy in front of me and says, "Your career only happened because you humiliated a famous athlete."
Security moves closer.
Months ago, the comment would have hollowed me out.
Now I look at the man. "The photographs existed before the scandal. You are welcome to buy the book or leave the line."
He leaves.
Rhett stands near the back. He does not intervene. We agreed security would handle threats and I would handle words addressed to me.
Afterward, he asks, "Do you want to talk about it?"
"Later. First, champagne."
At the studio, friends gather among stacks of books. My mother cries openly. Maren claims allergies. Ingrid joins by video. Adrian gives a toast containing two sports clichés and is fined twenty dollars for each.
Rhett waits until everyone leaves.
Then he places his copy before me.
"Will you sign it?"
"You have a prepublication copy."
"That one was a gift from a photographer. This one is from an author."
I write:
Rhett — Thank you for seeing the hand behind the frame. — Nora
He reads it, then looks at me. "I want to tell you something, and it is not a request."
"All right."
"I am happier watching you become larger than I ever was being the largest thing in your life."
Tears burn my eyes.
"That is suspiciously good," I say.
"Sloane reviewed the emotional grammar."
I laugh and pull him toward me.
Our kiss tastes like champagne and ink.