what they did. What I did. Where I failed you.”
Emma looked down at her hands.
“You left,” she said.
I nodded.
“And I agreed to it because I believed in what you were building. I still do. I was proud of you.” Her voice softened. “But after a while, it felt like everyone had a version of you except me. Investors had your voice on calls. Reporters had your quotes. Your mother had your authority. Jennifer had your money. Michael had your name.”
She looked up.
“And I had memories.”
I felt that one deeply.
“I thought I was providing.”
“You were,” she said. “But provision is not presence.”
No accusation.
Just truth.
That made it harder to bear.
We talked for hours.
Not all at once. Not smoothly. Sometimes she stopped and stared at the city. Sometimes I asked a question and wished I hadn’t. Sometimes she told
